The Heaviest Crown
by Zura
Summary: After spending years wandering Skyrim and ultimately saving Tamriel from the World Eater, the Dragonborn Verax turns his attention to the land that forged him into a legend. With the temporary armistice still in place he devises a plot to bring peace back to the troubled province and ready the land for the ever present Thalmor threat. Conclusion of the "Whitescale" series.
1. 4E 202

The terms seemed to have gone over well. Despite the huffing and puffing of the respective delegates an armistice had been agreed to. Though it was something of a farce as both sides promised each other that when I had resolved the dragon situation they would go back to their warring. I had held my tongue about their petty bickering during the entire proceedings but it was immensely difficult to do. In truth my only immediate concern was getting use of Whiterun's dragon capturing equipment. But like the delegates I would not wait forever for the war to end itself. I had spent too much time wandering Skyrim and risked myself too many times for its people to see it ruined by war.

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding. But a word before you go." I say to the assembled guests of High Hrothgar. "I appreciate you all coming and working out this agreement. This is the first step to a peaceful Skyrim. But unlike you gentlemen I do not believe it has to end in bloodshed."

"Bloodshed is what started this." Tullius reminded me.

"I know. What I'm trying to say is...right now making sure there's still a world tomorrow is my only goal. For all your swords, men, war machines and castles you can't stop the World Eater. I don't even know if I can either. But if I do I won't sit idly by while your armies do their best to destroy what I have saved."

"And whose side will you be fighting on?" Ulfric asked in that fatalistic tone of his.

"Skyrim's, Jarl." I say evenly. "You will do well to remember that."

"How dare you speak to-" Galmar began in outrage.

"Silence!" I snap. "One does not seek the opinions of a lap dog when its master is readily available."

"Are you trying to say you'll get involved when this dragon mess is sorted out?" Tullius asked while the Stormcloak officer cast smoldering glares at me.

"No!" Arngeir cried. "You mustn't!"

"I am sorry." I say to the Greybeard. "Yours is a Way of peace. But I am not a peaceful man."

Turning to the Imperial I add, "Yes General, I will be involved. By all accounts you are a man who has Skyrim's best interests at heart. I hope this is true for everyone here. For all our sakes."

I stand and put my dragonscale helmet back on. "This meeting is adjourned. You will be hearing of my success or my failure one way or the other."


	2. 4E 203

It was a snowy evening in Windhelm as it often was. Crunching through the snow just outside the city I was wearing modest white robes that bore my new Septim-esque crest on the back. Heading past the stables the normally quiet evening was disturbed by the forty men and women walking behind me. Each of them was geared in armor made from dragon scales and bones that I had spent months crafting. Each body piece and shield was emblazoned with the same crest on my back and would provide a powerful message in the future.

The first few guards to see us nearly fled before they somewhat recognized me. My profile in each hold was relatively high before but after brokering the tentative armistice and putting an end to the dragon attacks there was hardly a cave in Skyrim I wasn't known in. Nervously the guards stood their ground as we marched up to the city gates.

"Dragonborn." one of them called. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm headed to the palace. Summon Commander Rokair immediately. I will meet him at the palace gates."

"Who are these people?"

"My personal guard of course. Now make way."

Marching past the guards we saw scrambling Stormcloaks and worried townspeople looking on. I made sure to wave to them as Brunwulf Free-Winter met me just inside the city gates.

"Verax." he nodded. "We're really doing this?"

"Someone has to my friend. You know better than most the horrors of war. Let us see that this armistice holds and the people of Skyrim suffer no more."

"I am with you then sword-brother." Brunwulf answered and with him at the head of my escort we marched up the stairs to the palace. I made sure to wave and smile as much as possible at the townsfolk. Hopefully it would hurt less later.

At the gates of the Palace of Kings a clearly anxious Commander Rokair and at rough count perhaps 50 guards waited with more making their way over. It was of little consequence how many there were at this point. Too much planning had happened to turn back now.

"Dragonborn Verax." Rokair said as we stopped just a few yalms from him. "I'm sure you have a good explanation for bringing troops into my city uninvited. You may turn back now."

"No, Commander, I'm afraid I can't do that." I say. Everything depended on the next few minutes. I sincerely hoped that I could talk my way into the palace without making a scene.

"What do you mean to do here?" he asked and rested his hand on his sword.

"I am going into the hall yonder." I say while I point past them. "I am going to challenge Ulfric Stormcloak the same way he challenged High King Torygg and I'm going to kill him."

Swords were pulled from sheathes but interestingly enough none near me. Rokair was sweating like a mammoth in the Alik'r desert but to his credit he kept his nerve. "Surely you can't be serious."

"Do you know what is at stake, Commander?" I raise my voice for the rest of the guard to hear. "All of Skyrim! How many lives have been spared since this armistice began? As long as Ulfric rules this war will never end. Both sides will be weakened when the elves come for us. Will you sit by as Nord fights Nord or will you join me to fight the true enemy? The ones at the heart of this struggle?"

"And what of the treaty? Talos?" Rokair asked.

"There will be a time when the worship of Talos or anyone else will be free and open. This I promise you. For now we must put on a brave face while we muster the strength to throw off elven domination." I call to the them.

"Brunwulf, you can't be with him on this." the commander practically pleaded.

"I am, Rokair." the war hero answered. "You and I know what war will do to the this land. Nords killing other Nords...these wounds will not heal easily."

"I...I can't just let you walk in and kill my Jarl!" Rokair cried. "I'll be hung!"

"You can't stop me either, Commander." I assured him. "But I do not want to hurt you men! You all know me! I know you! Jorgan, Byognar, were you not almost dead before I drove a dragon away from you? Have I not bled for Windhelm?"

"It's true!" my carefully planted friends yelled. "I owe the Dragonborn my life. Many of us do. I will not fight him."

Dramatically the two men in question threw their swords to the ground. A brief clattering followed as others, either by respect or fear, did the same. I could sense the crowd wavering and even the guards with drawn blades seemed to be rethinking their actions.

"You see Commander? I do not wish to pay reparations to the widows of any of your men. I wish only to challenge your Jarl and if he bests me my men will have no reason to stay here."

"And if you best him?" Rokair asked. I could almost hear the snow falling as the crowd hung on our every word.

"Then I will need all of your help keeping the city safe." I spread my hands grandly.

"You aim to keep a city safe by bringing your soldiers into it?"

I smiled. "Look again, Commander. They are not armed."

Rokair blinked as he quickly confirmed what I had said. "What..."

"Come now." I chide him. "These warriors are not for my protection. They are for yours."

I could see the commander wavering but this was no time for half measures. "Come then, step forward." I shout to the guards. "Let he who would not see this war ended come at me. Destroy me and the hope of a peaceful Skyrim if you can."

None of the guards moved and even the ones who had drawn weapons looked around for a braver soul to do what they did not want to. "Come on then. I'm only one man. I'm not even armed. What are you waiting for?"

When I turned back to Rokair I could see that he was beaten. "You see, Commander? It is not the will of the people to fight. You serve a madman who would throw away your lives for his own glory. Serve me instead. Together we can end this pointless conflict and prepare ourselves for the true enemy in Summerset."

Rokair face was stone but he turned to his men and yelled, "Stand down! Stand down! Out of the way!"

The Windhelm guards warily moved to the side as I motioned my troops on. "Come with me Commander." I say to Rokair. "I will need you to avoid further blood shed."

Throwing open the gates the palace we streamed in past startled guards who were quickly pacified by Rokair. Sitting on his throne was a stoic Ulfric Stormcloak who watched as my bone clad men went ahead of me and flipped his dining tables over. Pushing them to the side and kicking tableware out of the way they cleared a direct path to the back of the room. The guards from outside followed us in and the entire palace watched from the sides of the room as I walked over food and expensive cutlery to get to my target.

"We meet again." I call out as I approached. "I told you I would not sit idly by while you played with your people's lives."

"What do you know of my people, lizard?" Ulfric growled. "Go back to Black Marsh where your wretched kind belong."

"I think I'll stay. You though are headed somewhere Jarl. Where exactly will be up to you."

"You come into my house and threaten me, Dragonborn? For all the tales of you there apparently none that speak of your wisdom."

"You know nothing of wisdom you wine sack." I spit. "What do you think happens to Skyrim when this war takes its toll? Even should you win the Dominion will have the perfect excuse to invade. Not even at full strength could you hope to throw the elves back. Without the Empire's assistance your lands will be little more than grazing fields for elven cattle. Your women and children will weep for Skyrim under an elven yoke because you threw away countless Nord lives on this pointless war."

"We are stronger than you think, scale scum." Ulfric promised.

"It will not come to that. I won't let it. Ulfric Stormcloak, you claim to be the High King of Skyrim. I challenge you in single combat. You may yield and yet live to face permanent exile from Skyrim."

"Madness!" his right hand man Galmar snarled.

"So you would come to make Nords Imperial slaves again." Ulfric bristled.

"No, Jarl. I've come because this land suffers from a Stormcloak disease and I am the cure."

"This has gone long enough!" Galmar shrieked and unsheathed his battle axe.

"Guard, wall!" I call to my men. Behind me the forty warriors formed a semicircle at my back. Literally shielding the crowd gathered to watch they also ensured I wouldn't be attacked from the rear.

"You're a bigger fool than I thought if you think you would sit on my Jarl's chair." Galmar seethed. Shaking my right hand ever so slightly I slid an armor piercing spike from my sleeve into my palm. It could penetrate steel plate armor and would make short work of the leathery Stormcloak officer mail Galmar was dressed in.

"What are you waiting for then, Stormcloak? Afraid that you will not be welcomed in Sovengarde?"

The older man charged me with a wild roar and a heavy swing of the battle axe. I darted back just enough as the edge whispered by and then planted my feet as the officer's momentum carried him forward. It would have looked like a single punch but with the spike firmly in my hand I drove it forward as Galmar collided with me. Slamming into my shoulder he took the spike directly in the heart as he bounced off of my wide stance.

The old Nord sputtered and stumbled in disbelief but miraculously he was still on his feet. I shoulder bumped past the confused and quickly dying Stormcloak to stand in front of Ulfric's throne. A few moments later and just behind me Galmar collapsed to the floor as I waited for the Jarl to make a move.

"By what right do you have to come into the hall of my fathers and challenge me?" Ulfric asked.

"I think you know by now." I answer. "You see, the rule of dragons is not unlike that of Nords. The strongest one leads while the others follow. That was what you told me wasn't it? Why you killed Torygg?"

The silence in the room was deafening and Ulfric was a Nordic statue so I went on. "So you call yourself the true High King? What if you were? What if I were to walk in to the High King's palace and challenge him the old way to combat? Would he assent like a coward or would he at least have the courage of his predecessor to accept?"

At last Ulfric rose to his feet. "I'd rather die than see an Argonian rule over Nords."

"Let it be so." I say and Ulfric Shouted at me. The force was enough to convincingly knock me off my feet. It was nothing like the combined efforts of the Greybeards or the wrath of Alduin but easily overcoming Ulfric would not be sufficiently noble enough. It would not do to have talk of murder but a tale of titanic struggle would do nicely.

The Jarl was upon me in an instant with his sword held high but my return Shout lifted him from the floor and threw him into the air. The sound still shook the floor as I scramble to my feet while Ulfric no doubt struggled even to think. Kicking away his sword I circle him while my tail flicks irritably. The Nord slowly rose to his feet and put up his large fists just before I came at him.

The Stormcloak leader had a decent amount of reach on me and solid basics but was a wild puncher with little finesse. I had finesse and technique in shiploads honed by necessity in deadly combat across Skyrim. Our styles were symbolic of our nature but this was lost on me until I reflected on the fight later.

He started swinging as I slid out of the way and picked him apart with counter punches. I keep my head moving back and forth as he wings punches that would likely knock me down if they connected. Each time he missed I made him pay for it and before long he was cut over the eye and on his cheek.

Darting in close to avoid the reach problem I fake low and flip a hard Argonian elbow to his chin with enough force to rattle my arm scales. Unfortunately for Ulfric he was wearing thick robes that wrapped his entire body. They perfectly mimicked the heavy training garments the Dark Brotherhood had used for centuries and ones I've spent years training with. In the split second he is dazed by my elbow I grip his lapels and use the back of my calf to sweep his legs out from under him. At the same time I throw his torso down as hard as I can the opposite direction.

Ulfric's head makes a satisfying _thunk!_ as it hits his own stone floor. I resist the urge to smile and realize that I'm enjoying myself too much. I'm supposed to be winning a hard fought and therefore much deserved battle of wills. If it was going to be adequately epic Ulfric was going to have to hit me at some point and it was going to have to hurt.

"Get up High King of Skyrim." I taunt. "Get up. I thought you made of steel and winter cold, not milk and tears."

A disoriented Jarl forced himself to his knees and then to his feet. He was bloodied and bruised but mercifully conscious still. He came at me again and I dodged one, two, three hay makers but let the fourth connect. The force he still summoned while borderline incapacitated was more than I was expecting. My legs buckled and then next thing I knew Ulfric was leaning over and pummeling me from above.

Putting my arms up to attempt to stop the blows to my head I regained my senses enough to act. Swinging a leg around the big Nord I pushed him back enough to scuttle out from underneath him. We both got to our feet but I was a second faster and threw myself knee first at him as he was about to stand. The hall echoed with the loud crack it made as bone struck bone and Ulfric slumped back to the floor.

The shock from the blow ran up the entire right side of my body but I shake it off. Tasting my own blood in my mouth and I am angered that I had let it come to that. Too much planning had gone into this day for me to lose in a fist fight to an inferior opponent because of a lucky strike. It was time to put an end to this charade. Setting my knee on his chest and pinning one of his arms down I proceeded to beat a semi-conscious Ulfric to the doorstep of irreversible brain trauma. I hammer his face until my knuckles ached and he barely resembled himself.

Heaving from the exertion I sit back and suck in the warm air of the palace in grateful mouthfuls. Lungs afire I look around to see all eyes upon me with different shades of horror but with rapt fascination in each pair. Getting to my feet I had one more act to do to finish off this play and it was going to be a sure fire hit.

Gripping Ulfric's collar with reddened fingers I dragged him bodily back to his throne. He was heavy but dragging dead weight was part and parcel to my occupation. Propping the barely responsive Jarl back up in his chair I take a few steps away from his throne.

"I will show you _jul _how a true _dovah _uses the Voice!" I shout to the crowd. Sucking in the biggest breath I could I closed my eyes. I don't know how the _dov_ dealt with it but it was impossible to get used to the heat with a mortal body. Exhaling I spoke the ancient words of power and my breath changed into a long gout of hellfire exactly as I had been taught to make it do by Paarthurnax himself. The blast nearly knocked the throne down but it did the job of burning flesh, bone and wood into ashes.

Thus did end the reign of Ulfric Stormcloak and thus did begin mine. The wall behind the throne was forever blackened and I'm told his shrieks were heard well outside the castle.


	3. 4E 204 Rain's Hand

The doors to the Palace of Kings opened and an Imperial procession came through into the great hall. General Tullius himself surrounded by no less than eight of my now famous Dragonguard and his personal escort entered the thoroughly renovated reception area. Instead of the empty grandeur of Ulfric's forefathers the space had been lined with artwork and sculptures from all over Skyrim. Most were Nord as fitting of the land but I made sure to acquire a few elven and Argonian pieces as well.

Seated at the end of the long tables I wave them over just as the last of the food is set down for their arrival. Seated to my left were the once mortal enemies Hadar and Ralof from the Empire and rebellion respectively. To my right was my steward Free-Winter who also served as the Jarl as need be. The rest of the places had been set for the soldiers with a comfortable distance between us to speak without fear of eavesdropping.

"General!" I call. "So good of you to visit. We've quite the feast prepared."

Eying both me and the food as he approached the Imperial representative said, "Pardon me but given that my Emperor was killed in these hostile lands I must decline your hospitality. I mean no offense."

"None taken!" I beam. "Dragonguard! Eat the general's food!"

A cheer went up from my men and they gladly took off helmets and armor to sup. It had no doubt been a long, cold journey from Solitude and few comforts were to be had on the road. I could see Tullius' escort salivating at the thought of sitting and eating but they would not act without orders from their commander.

"What are you men waiting for?" I bellow at them with my raspy Argonian tongue. "I'll not throw all this food away because you are too frightened to eat!"

The Imperials turned almost as one to silently plead with the general. He gave them the slightest of nods and eagerly they joined my guard in attacking the rather lavish banquet before them. Tullius took his seat next to me as I waved a servant over.

"If you will not eat I have a bottle of imported Cyrodiil red on hand. Of course we have milk as well." I say cordially.

"My Jarl, the term 'milk-drinker' is something of an insult." Free-Winter informed me.

"Oh." I blink in genuine ignorance. "How terribly embarrassing. Apologies, General."

"Forget it. I'll take the red." Tullius answered. I point to the General as the servant fills the goblet in front of him.

"Excellent. Now, may I introduce my advisers? I believe you know Hadar well, this is my steward Brunwulf Free-Winter and this is Ralof, the head of my Stormcloak reconciliation efforts."

"I remember you. You were at Helgen when this all began." the keen Tullius recalled. "How did you convince him to follow you?"

"I am no puppetmaster General. You may ask him yourself."

"All right then, the question stands." the Imperial asked.

"At first I believed I was asked to be here purely because the Jarl wanted to pretend to care about the Stormcloaks." Ralof began. "He sent for me personally. We all doubted him but in the months afterward I came to realize that Jarl Verax truly cares for Windhelm's people and Skyrim. If he can accomplish what Jarl Ulfric could without war then it is for the people's sake I follow him."

"Fair enough answer." Tullius conceded. "Well then Jarl, how have your reconciliation efforts been going?"

"It has been trying." I admit. "But the reward is far greater than the risk. In the...how long has it been since I've been Jarl, Brunwulf?"

"14 months, sir." Free-Winter responded.

"In 14 months we've had the most requests for amnesty ever. Once people have realized they can go home few are willing to martyr themselves for a lost cause."

"You don't worry about having die-hards at home?" Tullius asked incredulously.

"Of course not. One does not take a man's home from him when he tires of war. Windhelm's sons and daughters belong in Windhelm. We've much work to do if we are to make this hold outshine Whiterun and Solitude."

"I mean aren't you worried about your personal safety with all the former Stormcloaks around?"

"Oh." I smile. "No."

"There have been two attempt on the Jarl's life." Free-Winter said. "Both times he made a point to beat the assailants unconscious with no help from the guards who rushed to help."

"And I assume you had them executed?"

"No. We sentenced them to six months of farm work."

"Surprising clemency." Tullius said.

"What can I say? I'm a soft hearted ruler." I grin with reptilian teeth showing.

"Hadar tells me you've implemented some interesting changes unique to your hold."

"We aim high, General. What would you like to know about?"

"Windhelm is quickly becoming a safe place in an unsafe world. Tell me about your security." he requested.

"Ah, I believe my steward can fill you in on those details." I gesture to the side.

"Where other cities have a guard we have two." Free-Winter started. "There are appointed Magistrates for each quarter chosen from the populace to make sure any abuses of power are swiftly reported. They have a direct line to me personally."

"The Dunmer even have their own, General." Hadar said. "Not unlike Cyrodiil."

"I see." Tullius said. "Pardon me for asking but where do you get your funding for all this? I was lead to believe you lowered taxes."

"Some local taxes yes." Free-Winter confirmed. "Our tariffs have increased slightly and a great deal of funding comes from the Jarl himself."

"It does? How?"

"The Jarl's personal income has been given over to public funding. We only draw enough for castle upkeep and entertaining guests such as yourself."

"You aren't paid?" he asked in disbelief and I could only shrug.

"This modesty allows us to expand our services and offer free escorts to major caravans leaving Windhelm. This makes our outgoing goods almost guaranteed as well as easing the cost of our high tariffs. People want to do business here because it might mean the difference between getting home alive or not." I explain.

"I understand your Dragonguard accompanies many of these caravans."

"Yes indeed." my chest swells with pride. "Ralof can tell you more."

"Oh?"

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention. Ralof is also the captain of my Dragonguard. These men and women are unaffiliated with Windhelm but work closely with my administration."

"It is so." Ralof said. "The Dragonguard have a perfect record of safe travel despite numerous bandit attacks. These...skirmishes have slowed in recent months perhaps due to the growing fame of the Guard or perhaps we are simply running out of bandits."

"May I ask where they came from?" Tullius queried.

"I trained them personally." I say. "I count them among my friends and most trusted allies. The armor they bear I made myself from the bones of defeated foes."

"Remarkable." the Imperial leader said. "You would have made a fine Legate."

"It's not too late, General." I grin wide.

"I'm told that you have a crop growing experiment here as well."

"Ah, that would be my domain." I say. "Are you aware of the research in Markarth conducted by master Calcelmo?"

"Ah, no."

"He's a Dwemer researcher I met years ago. As an adventurer I explored many ruins for him before we made a startling find. Were you aware the Dwemer managed to grow crops underground even in places with no light!"

"Interesting but how does this relate to your new structures?"

"Ahem, well," I say and am slightly disappointed at the general lack of enthusiasm for the discovery, "we found entire gardens in specially built rooms. It was Calcelmo's assistant who suggested that the glass in the ceiling was actually used to produce sunlight!"

"Fascinating." Tullius said quite disinterestedly.

"While we can't figure out the sunlight part we can imitate their gardens. These 'hypocaustum' as Calcelmo calls them are rooms kept constantly warm and built of glass to let sunlight in. We have been setting them up on roofs around the city. If things go well we may be able to grow crops year round."

"Hmm. Your farmers aren't upset about this?"

"Upset? They're mad that we haven't built a mass of them already." Free-Winter chuckled. "Hopefully the tests go well and we can start constructing large scale versions."

"My architects would be interested to hear about this." Tullius said. "They'd be interested to hear about the improvements you've made to the city as well."

"Renovations of the Gray Quarter – sorry, Wind Quarter have been ongoing since the Jarl took over." Free-Winter explained. "Ulfric cared little for the Dunmer who always looked to me for a voice. With their own Magistrate, much improved security and renovations they are quite satisfied with our progress. We've seen an increase in immigration and of course business coming in from Morrowind has been favorable. With friends and relatives welcomed in the Eastmarch and our security in place the Dunmer traders prefer to visit us instead of Whiterun."

"Please tell the General of the new fortifications." Hadar spoke up.

"Ah yes. No doubt you saw the construction going on. We aim to double our total walled area in the next five years. We're also in the process of adding ballistae to the towers to combat any dragon attacks should they occur again."

Tullius leaned back with his wine and finally took a sip as he thought. "You're a born leader, Jarl Verax."

"A fine compliment coming from you General." I nod appreciatively.

"The Empire prides itself on having the best and brightest in all of Tamriel. With a few pulled strings I could make you an important man in Cyrodiil."

"You're too generous, General. However my place is here in Windhelm and Skyrim. I have committed myself to her people and future."

"Ah. Too bad." he said and drained his goblet. "I beg your pardon Jarl but may I speak with my Praefect here in private?" he motioned towards Hadar.

"Of course. Brunwulf, please show the General wherever he wishes to go that he may be free of listening ears."

"I can guide him." Hadar offered.

"As you wish." I gesture towards the rest of the keep. "I will be readily available. General, Praefect, _vale_."

"_Vale_, Jarl." the general answered. "Praefect, lead the way."

The two Imperials took their leave as I settled back into my chair. "That went well." I say when they are out of sight.

"Was it wise to tell them so much of our dealings?" Ralof asked me.

"You worry too much, Captain." I scold him. "We tell them nothing Imperial spies could not."

"I still think we should not be so welcoming." Ralof sniffed.

"We cannot stand against the Aldemeri alone." I remind him. "Make no mistake friends. They are indeed coming. I have buried enough of their agents to know how far their reach stretches. Like it or not we need Cyrodiil on our side if we are to get what we want."

"When will you tell him that we will fight for freedom of worship?" Brunwulf asked.

"Tonight most likely." I speculate. "It will not occur to him that I want what Ulfric did."

"Only you are not willing to go to war to get it."

"Every Nord, every immigrant and Khajit merchant, man, woman and child lost to war, bandits or famine weakens Skyrim a little more. We must be ascendant if we are to demand the rights both as citizens of the Empire and a free people."

"Yes, my Jarl."

* * *

><p>Tullius and Hadar took their cloaks and walked out to the high wall overlooking Windhelm. It was cold but not windy and made a decently pleasant place to discuss matters.<p>

"All right Praefect, what can you tell me about their operation that wasn't quite accurate?" the general asked.

"As near as I can tell it was truthful sir." Hadar reported. "It was consistent with both my observations and local eyes and ears."

"Hmm. What do you make of that Dragonguard of his? I have not seen them in action as you have."

"They're quite capable sir. Those suits are no cheap show pieces. I've seen lesser blades break on them. As individual units and a corps as a whole they earn their reputation."

"Any ideas on where they all came from?"

"Some are good friends of the Jarl, some acquaintances. Some come from the Guilds of the area but all are capable. I learned that he knows each by name and pays them double what a standard guard makes."

"But not from the hold's coffers?"

"No sir, from his own personal wealth though I know not where it comes from." Hadar shook his head.

"Then their fame is rightfully acquired then."

"Yes, sir. Though I have a theory about that."

"Hmm?" Tullius grunted.

"I believe the Jarl occasionally travels as one of his own Dragonguard."

"Are you sure about that soldier?"

"No but I believe I am right. He knows a great deal more about their movements than he lets on. I've seen him with fresh battle wounds that he heals very quickly due to his Black Marsh birth and never speaks of where they came from. Whatever the case he is still very much active in the field though he would have the populace believe he isn't."

"He must be gone often." the general reasoned.

"Indeed. Free-Winter handles much of the day to day but the Jarl handles special functions himself."

"Do you think he's a threat to the Empire?"

Hadar had to think for a moment. "I...cannot quite tell yet sir. He has the ambition of Ulfric but none of the vices. He truly believes in making Skyrim strong but for what I cannot fathom."

"Something is bothering me about all this." Tullius admitted. "These...changes he's coming up with. They don't fit in with my reading of him."

"Sir?"

"He's a natural leader, combat versed obviously, self educated. Nothing suggests a capacity for the kind of civil expertise he's shown."

"Well he keeps constant correspondence with the Jarls friendly to him. I've also talked to our man in Ivarstead who says he's spotted the Jarl passing through more than once."

"You'll forgive me for not knowing what that is supposed to mean, Praefect." the general raised an eyebrow.

"People who pass through Ivarstead are only on their way to the 7,000 Steps and High Hrothgar, sir."

"Interesting...he is well received there. It is possible the Greybeards provide counsel to the Jarl?"

"I can look into it." Hadar suggested.

"Good. Remember though we have an opportunity to turn the former Stormcloak hold into an Imperial friendly one. Let us not waste it by failing to be discreet."

"Yes sir. Will I be returning to Solitude with you?"

"No." Tullius shook his head. "If the Jarl is gracious enough to provide me with eyes and ears in his court I will not waste it. I'm wary of any Nord leader building their power base but who knows? Perhaps it takes an Argonian to tame them."

* * *

><p>Returning to the dining room Tullius found the Jarl standing at the table in between his guards and the Imperial escort. He was in the middle of telling a loud story and the general waited in the stone threshold of the door as the Argonian commanded the room.<p>

"So I tell this stupid Nord that he knows nothing of bravery." Verax said with a laugh as he pointed at one of his guard. "Taking a strap of leather I yell out, 'First man to fall pays the other a thousand septims!' and jump onto one of the beasts.

"I don't need to tell you gentlemen the dangers of riding a Frostbite spider in a loincloth!" he roared and the soldiers guffawed happily as he continued. "Their backs are as wooly as a mammoth and like all Nord women their hairy legs give you a terrible rash!"

The soldier uproariously laughed and pounded the table as the Jarl continued over the din. "So what does he do? He grabs a strap and jumps onto another of the angry beasts and there we are trying to stay on top of the damn things! I lose my balance laughing so hard and tumble off while it tries to bite me to death. The mages chase my spider away but there's Solveig riding his with all the skill of a Dunmer on a horse. I shout to him, 'Where did you learn to ride such an ugly beast?' to which he replied, 'Ask your mother, lizard!'"

The fighting men from both factions howled with laughter and many pounded the long banquet tables with their fists in appreciation. Tullius could only shake his head as the Jarl held up his hand to quiet the crowd. "Now our story takes a more serious turn." he said with a heavy heart. "Solveig unwittingly steered the beast towards a short cliff and they both went toppling over. We rushed to him to find the spider dead and our comrade unresponsive."

The hall grew quiet as the laughter faded from the men's mouths and faces. "For three days he lay in a deathly coma. My healers did all they could but we did not know if he would make it. I was beside myself with grief for it was my foolish game that caused his injury. On the third day my healers called for me and I rushed to his tent.

"They told me he was awake and asked to speak with me. I leaned in on his bedside afraid that I might never again get the chance converse with him. 'Come closer my lord.' he whispered and I leaned in almost to his mouth to hear what might be his last words.

"Suddenly he grips my collar, yanks me forward and screams into my ear, 'You owe me a thousand septims, fishbreath!'"

The laughter returned to the hall and the soldier in question received a number of slaps on the back from his compatriots. "What did you do then?" one of the Imperials called out to the Jarl.

"What did I do?" Verax asked. "What could I do? I paid the man!"

The soldiers hollered and laughed while the Argonian raised his mug. "To you fighting men, without whom there would be no justice in this world."

Both sides raised their glasses to toast themselves and the Jarl tipped back his mug until it streamed down his scaly chin. Tullius pushed himself off the wall and fully entered the room as Verax slammed his empty stein down on the table. "The Empire is grateful for your hospitality, Jarl." he called out. Turning in surprise Verax quickly dabbed himself off with a cloth.

"Ahem, General, didn't see you there."

"May I speak with you in private?"

"Of course. Master Free-Winter, see to it that our guests are properly taken care of for the night. Gentlemen." he waved as he joined the general at the end of the table. "This way, my lord." Verax gestured.

"Is spider riding a custom in this part of the world?" the general asked.

"Ah! You heard. Well, no." Verax said in embarrassment. "But I did have an idea I wanted to run by you. I was thinking of creating yearly games in Whiterun once this Stormcloak business was sorted out."

"Oh? What kind of events would you have?"

"Traditional Nord games like caber tossing, stone throwing, wrestling, staff battles. Something all of Skyrim could participate in."

"That certainly would help unify the land." Tullius agreed.

"I thought so. Right up here, please."

The Argonian led the general into his re-purposed bed chambers. Gone was any sign of creature comforts which had been replaced by a full blown smithy and bookshelves crammed with dozens of volumes. The only sign that it was anything resembling a bedroom was a modest cot tucked into the corner almost as an afterthought.

"When my adjutant told me you had a furnace installed in your room I assumed he was joking." Tullius commented.

"Windhelm will be known as a center for smithies as well as trade." Verax said as he gestured towards a cluttered table.

"And a hold that would be a mistake to invade." the Imperial noted.

Verax cleared the papers and ingots from the table to stuff them into a nearby chest. Bringing back a large dagger almost two hands long he set it down in front of the general as he took his seat. The custom made sheathe bore his personal crest and Tullius gently pulled the black knife free of it. Made of expensive and extremely hard ebony metal the dagger was done in the Imperial style so that it resembled a gladius carried by the Empire's rank and file. Something like this would fetch close to five hundred septims for its material and how it was fashioned.

"Good balance." he approved as he replaced the blade and offered it back to the Jarl.

"Keep it." Verax held up his palm. "A souvenir from your trip."

"Many thanks. You have treated the Empire well. This is something we will not forget."

"As you know I was a long time citizen of Solitude." the Jarl nodded. "I am simply returning Imperial hospitality."

"You seem like a no-nonsense kind of man Jarl so let me skip the usual banter." Tullius said. "What are you planning and what do you want?"

"Hmm. I expected to dance around this all night." Verax said in almost disappointment.

"My job is to make sure Skyrim is there when the Empire calls. I see a build up of arms, men and material here that no other hold has even started. Are you friend or foe because I don't have the time to find out on my own."

"Is the warmth of my hall not enough to convince you?"

"Many fools have died while supping with what they assumed was an ally." Tullius said shrewdly.

"Quite true. Well I might ask you if you are friend or foe General as you did try to execute me once." Verax shot back.

"A misunderstanding."

"All right. Let us do away with pretense. We both know the Dominion is coming again. They spread across my land like locusts in a field and your hands are tied disposing of them. An Empire and a Skyrim at war with each other will be easy prey for elven slave makers."

"We can unofficially agree on that."

"Good. Here are my terms. You agree to allow or at least look the other way on this Talos matter in Skyrim. When the elves come you declare that the outlaw of our free worship is null and void. If the Nords are able to live as they wish they will fight the Aldmeri once more. In the mean time General I need mercy from you and freedom to build up our assets."

Tullius stared at the Argonian who leaned back in his chair and calmly returned his gaze. The reptilian slits betrayed nothing as the general contemplated his words. "You were hatched in Black Marsh by accident. You should have been born here."

"A strange compliment but I will take it."

"We have an understanding." Tullius announced. "But I want your support ousting the Jarls that are still firmly against the Empire."

"Done. A divided Skyrim is a weakened one. I hope this means that in the future you will eat the food I am offering."

The general gave the slightest of smirks and this was the first sign of good humor he had unconsciously made since arriving. The Jarl got up to retrieve a bottle of wine and two ornate glasses from a nearby cabinet. Filling them halfway the Argonian took a seat and raised his into the air.

"To Skyrim." Verax said.

"To Skyrim and the Empire." Tullius adjusted and they clinked the glass together.


	4. 4E 204 Evening Star

The 7,000 steps are never an easy climb. Indeed, it is something of an experience just making it to the top. Sneaking past the town at night me and my companions were nearly halfway up the mountain by morning as a sluggish sun lit up the white landscape. Normally I enjoyed the silence of the solitary sojourn but this was a good chance to get some business out of the way as well. Accompanying me are my second in command Nazir and the oldest unliving Brotherhood member Babette.

"Really Listener, must you take us to such dreary locations in the day?" the child-like vampress complained eloquently.

"I suffer as you do my blood-sister. Though your endless comments do make the trip more bearable." I grin as we hike through the snow laden path.

"Mind your manners when you address your elders, young whelp." she sniffed.

"For once I must agree with the she-demon." Nazir griped. "This...bright...dayness...is quite the opposite of what we are used to."

"The mountain air will do you good Nazir." I chide him. "It is fitting to get out from under your rock once in a while."

We hiked up a particularly uneven set of hills before taking rest by an ancient cemetery. "Fitting resting place, Listener." Babette noted.

"Heh. Resting place." Nazir chuckled.

"So, how are the latest recruits coming along?" I ask as I lean against a headstone so old the engraving had long since worn away.

"Very well." Nazir announced. "Efforts to recruit from the Thieves' Guild have been going splendidly. They have the basics but your training program has been most effective Listener."

"If it works for my Dragonguard then it will work for my brothers and sisters in the dark." I declare. "I just hope we are clear that the Brotherhood will never target my Guard as long as they both exist. Should the two cross blades and realize their techniques are similar...I should not like explaining such coincidences."

"For a youngling you are wise to the pitfalls of the future, dear brother." Babette observed. "It will be done."

"Excellent. I do hate repeating myself. Now, there is yet another reason I have brought you two along with me. Know you well how busy we have been of late, yes?"

"More than ever, Listener. It seems with every capable member we add it is just in time to not be stretched too thin." Nazir agreed.

"It has come to pass that we have to do what has not been done in centuries." I say.

"Why this sudden formality?" Babette asked in her tiny voice.

"Nazir, you are my Keeper and our finest trainer in the killing arts. Your place is at Dawnstar to lead in my stead and show the newest recruits what it means to be the hand of Sithis. But even in this we are not fully living up to our potential. Our legend must continue to grow."

"Listener?"

I held up my hands. "Yet grow it must. Babette, Nazir, you're the only ones in all of Tamriel I trust with my life. As I said, I need Nazir at my side watching for daggers in my back but you sister, you will be given the highest honor I can bestow."

"Verax?" she asked and rarely did anyone in the Brotherhood ever use my given name.

"Cyrodiil hath summoned thee, dearest Babette." I say grandly. "Our work spreads to the very heart of the Empire. The Sacrament has been performed and the Night Mother has spoken. You will go south to answer the call and found a new chapter in the distant lands. You will be its Speaker."

"Sithis be praised!" Nazir said and in a rare moment of camaraderie put his arm around the slender child. "Our sister a full fledged Matron! Congratulations!"

The shocked vampress looked like she had just seen a brigade of Pentius Oculatus bearing down on her. "Don't be so joyous, sister. You will embarrass us." I smile.

"But...but I like it in Skyrim." she managed to say.

"And we are lesser without you. But there is no finer agent of mine to be trusted with this task. You will be well funded and well supported from here. What say you?"

"I...of course I accept."

"Then it is decided. I will make a deal with you, sweet Babette. Give me a hundred years of service in Cyrodiil and I will allow you to return to Skyrim when your mission is complete." I offer.

"I am honored, Listener." she said with a short bow.

"Good! Now, Nazir, we must provide the appropriate support for our sister. How many safe houses have we purchased in the holds so far?" I ask.

"Only Markarth is without a proper safe house." the Redguard answered. "We are having issues acquiring property. The Jarl is notoriously stingy with his grants."

"Stall that then. I want funds available immediately for Babette's Sanctuary."

"Yes Listener."

"We will need many things to be duplicated as well." I continue. "Have the new initiates brush up on their penmanship. We will need copies of the Tenets, code translations and additional member guidelines. You and I will need to write up our training programs for new recruits as well. Babette, I expect a tome for future Matrons and Patrons on building a new chapter from scratch in the next decade or so."

"Excellent Listener. We have much to do." Nazir beamed. "I thought perhaps your Jarl duties would keep your attention elsewhere but I was wrong."

"No brother, they only slow me down. Now, we will need scrying crystals at every Sanctuary. Our couriers are simply too slow to send contracts from Dawnstar to Cyrodiil. Setting up a platform will be your first task, Babette."

"As you wish." she nodded.

"I want the most promising Assassin who is nearly ready for Executioner status to accompany you. He or she is to be your Silencer as well as your primary executor of contracts when you touch down in the city."

"I have just the chap." Nazir said. "Unless your personal Silencer is available. She's really the best we have."

"No." I shake my head. "She will remain in Windhelm."

"Of course. Wouldn't want the Listener to go without friendly company now would we?" Nazir grinned.

"Babette can manage." I glare at him. Rubbing my hands together I got up off the headstone. "Well, let us continue. Many more steps remain."

Nazir sighed and Babette merely glided along just behind me as we resumed our journey.

* * *

><p>I spend the night with the Greybeards until setting out for the summit that following morning. I had forgotten how steep the final push was to the top as I seemed to do every time I made this trip. When I reached the very tip of the Throat of the World it was nearly mid day. There is no one in sight so I settle myself down into the snow to wait for my master's arrival. The biting cold of the highest point in all of Skyrim does not bother me. My vampirism acted as a buffer against the chill and even the mighty <em>dovah<em> who blasted freezing air could not harm me. On the reverse side fire scorched like nothing else and I had to be doubly careful dealing with my flame breathing brethren.

Hours passed as I meditated alone in the raging winds that whipped around the Throat. I was seeking to return to a state of no thought or feeling but was interrupted by the unique sound of beating dragon wings. Eyes closed I waited patiently for the massive _dovah_ to slam onto the ground in front of me. A great gust of ice flecked wind battered my body and when it passed I opened my eyes. Before me was the wizened head of Paarthurnax, master of the Greybeards and the Voice. I remained seated as he took a couple of mountain shaking steps forward.

"_Drem yol lok, Norokjoorsaviik_." he greeted with the dragon name he had given me.

"_Drem yol lok, thuri_." I answered.

Taking in a deep breath he lifted his head and blasted his _Yol_ above me. I felt the heat tickle my skin even nowhere near the flame and shudder to think of being caught in it. When he was done I too angled my Thu'um over his head and sucked in a deep breath. Giving everything I had I blasted my _Yol_ over his draconian frame.

"_Faal vonahl daal wah Monahven._ The Unliving returns to the Throat of the World. _Orin ko fin sul hin slen losag._ Even in the day your flesh is burning." he said.

"I suffer gladly for the chance to hear your wisdom, _thuri_."

"_Pruzah. Aus. Aus ahrk dahmaan fin sil los fin in do fin slen._" he said sagely.

"Of course, _thuri_. Is this not what you teach the other _dovah_?"

"_Geh. Nu, do jer Keizaal_." he changed the subject.

"What would you like to know?"

"_Fin Bron bodiis ahrk daal ahmik los pruzah?_"

"Yes, it seems your ideas for the loan program to our poorer citizens is working quite nicely. Not only are we gaining monetarily when we get our returns but it's encouraging families to move to Windhelm. I think in with all of the improved commerce and new revenue from taxes we will have enough funds for our college in the next few years. Or at least enough to start it."

"_Daar los pruzaan, Dovahkiin! Tiid loost vod wahlaan vodahmin teyye do muz_." he praised.

"Exactly. With a college for learning we have direct access to the future and the minds of the _joor_. Perhaps one day I might be able to take your words and print them for my fellows. Wouldn't a book by Paarthurnax be a prize for any college?"

The great dovah threw back his head and laughed with the baritone of a massive explosion. "_Geh! Geh, Dovahkiin._ A most capable pupil you are."

I did not accept his compliment but merely spread my hands in agreement. "_Ahrk hin banaar paar wah kos Junn do fin Bron ahrk Keizaal?_"

"_Pogass krosis thuri_, I did not quite follow all of that."

"_Krosis._ I forget you are not yet master of our tongue. What of your long running bid?"

"The pieces are set on the board. They are moving as I have arranged them. The rest fate will decide."

"Hmm. Do not fail, _Norokjoorsaviik_. The consequences of your acts echo in the centuries to come. You and I will be here to reap our mistakes." he warned.

"You will, _thuri_."

"Do you not walk the shadows? Who can challenge your Thu'um?"

"When my task in done I will cease to walk the shadows. _Jul_ were not meant to endure as _dovah_ do. I will cure myself and thus number my days on _Lein_."

"_Krosis. Ahrk hin ul_?" he asked about a touchy subject.

"I...I know not, master. I know not what to do. Where will my soul go? It is not for _jul_ to know."

"Let others guide you." the _dovah_ suggested. "Why not travel back to Sovengarde and ask the dead if your soul truly belongs there?"

I had never thought this to be a possibility. What if I couldn't return to Nirn twice? What if they would be angered by me treading on their sacred afterlife just for my own mortal answers?

"Meditate on this later." Paarthurnax ordered. "For now and for some time you must focus on your tasks at hand. Complete them before you attempt the task of self."

"_Geh, thuri_."

"Now, your Thu'um is strongest _Norokjoorsaviik_ but your _Yol_ is not. We will continue your training until it is mighty enough to match my own."

"_Geh, thuri_."

From the top of the world and possibly from far below we traded gouts of flame Thu'um for Thu'um. There are few things I look forward to as much as these lessons.


	5. 4E 205

It's cold, always cold here in the mountains. For the sake of appearance I keep heavy furs on but am otherwise unburdened save for the pack strapped to me. Food, clothing and even shelter for the most part were things I did not need. Blood, on the other hand, had to keep flowing. There was never a shortage of it; indeed, there was sometimes too much even for me to drink all at once. For all my years here in Skyrim I would never understand what draws conflict to it as a moth to an open flame.

Years ago when I first made this trek it was based from a rumor, a whisper in a tavern about a statue high in the wilderness where no sane person would go. Naturally it was almost the first place I set my mind to explore. I couldn't remember how many times I'd almost died just getting there from random enemies and the simple hardships of the road. I was still fleeing from Helgen and sought to go as far north as I could. Stopping briefly in Riverwood to make a few acquaintances and stock up on supplies I then first heard about the place from the local brewery. It was a conversation about strange places I eavesdropped on and decided that seeking out some ruin far away from prying eyes was exactly my kind of place. I didn't know how far behind that dragon was or the Imperials who wanted to take head off were so it seemed like a good idea.

Stopping on the ridge at the top of the mountain I take a break to look behind me. In the distance was my city, Windhelm. Off to the left the great waters stretched out and the mountains that formed the Rift valley rose up against the sky. It was a beautiful sight before dawn and I lamented that I hardly had time to make these kinds of trips anymore. There was something tranquil about walking through the woods, rivers and trees of the tundra that I'd grown to love more than any other place in Tamriel that I'd been to, including Black Marsh. These days I could hardly take the time off to get an entire evening to relax, never mind a couple of days.

There was a lot demanding my time for sure. Windhelm was a constant source of problems that I thankfully left in Free-Winter's capable hands. He only came to me with catastrophic and special events most of which I loathed but suffered through anyway. I shadowed my own Guard and their caravans quite a bit as well but had to remain concealed for the most part. Free-Winter would have my head if someone went back to town telling everyone that I was on the road getting into fights. Then there was the coordination with Tullius and all of the machinations to get rid of the still anti-Imperial Jarls. This one at least provided me with opportunities to stay sharp and slip a knife into someone. If all this wasn't enough I had to make sure to Listen to the dear Night Mother and take regular trips to High Hrothgar. What was a lizard to do?

Beginning the slippery climb down the face of the mountain I set aside the thoughts of my life. These trips were the closest I came to a holiday and I would not mar them fretting about work. Scrambling my way down with my heavy pack it took me the better part of an hour to get to the bottom. I could feel the sun getting close to rising as my scales prepared themselves for the steady pain of direct sunlight. It was nearly time to get into position and I'd wasted a little more than I meant to in the climb. Hustling forward with the heavy pack across the open, white expanse I was breathing hard by the time I made it to the foot of the large outcropping. Dropping the pack at the first, snow covered steps I leapt up them to get into place just as the sun began to break.

Above me the shrine the great statue of Azura towered over everything in sight. It was a special day today and this exact moment is what I had come for. When I had finished clearing the altar of snow the first few rays of the sun were beginning to poke out from the distant mountains. Kneeling down in the snow before the altar I placed my hands on it and began to speak knowing that there would be little chance for a response.

"Azura, Mistress of the Twilight, I ask now for your guidance and support. Lead me, your humble champion, and tell me if I am on the correct path." I left my hands up on the altar for the better part of half an hour as the sun rose more and more into the sky. The cold wind was the only answer I had and eventually I got up to get to work.

Going back down to the pack I took out and snapped together a large broom. As the sun went up and my scales began to prickle I pulled the furs down over me as best I could while sweeping the entire shrine area. Under the fresher layers of snow was the hard ice that bonded to the stone and for this I had a shovel and masonry tools. It took hours of labor to clear the landing and steps one by one until I made it to the shrine itself. Here I repeated my actions but with considerably more care and a delicate touch. Going back to the pack once more I brought it up the newly clean steps to the shrine and unloaded the rest. Inside were a large number of torches, incense, gold , flowers and dry firewood which I began to set up all around the holy site. Building a fire at the small encampment which miraculously hadn't been looted yet I replaced all of the burnt out torches with new ones.

In no time the whole shrine was brightly lit and looking like a proper place of worship. Of course, no one but me would be coming there any time soon. I was hoping on changing that but realisticly it wasn't easy looking for Azura's faithful when you weren't a Dunmer. It was harder still knowing that even on Hogithum, the day that priests around the world would be calling on her, that I would not get a single word from the silent statue. It was like I had done something to offend the Daedra that I had served since first stepping foot in this place. Perhaps she blamed me for what had happened to my first friend; perhaps she was disgusted with me for my actions. Maybe she didn't like to share me with the other Daedra...I could not know. All she had to do was send me one word, one sign that I was either in or out of her favor. Instead there was only silence and I could do nothing else but tend to her shrine.

Sighing heavily to myself I walked down the clean steps now reflecting the lazy light of the morning sun onto my itchy scales. There was one more thing left to do before I headed back and I moved to the right of the shrine to where an angel statue had been set up. Covered in snow as well it took me nearly half an hour to get it cleared off and to set up the offerings. Around ten feet tall and made of black rock it had taken me quite some time to haul up here the long way around. A horse drawn cart would only make it so far into the vertically challenging landscape. I had to construct a sled and drag the statue the rest of the way up the mountain myself. I could have hired help but things like a shrine to a daedric prince should not be common knowledge. Besides, it was the least I could do.

Much like the shrine nearby I decorated the lonely grave with flowers and burning incense. The faultless stone angel looked down on me and I sighed again under both her and Azura's stern countenance. Sitting down in front of the grave to come to vision level with the words that I had carved myself I read over the inscription. Written out in the draconic scratchings that the ancients used and where I had learned countless Shouts was, "Here lies the faithful Aranea Ienith, under the watchful gaze of Azura, may she rest for all time."

Filling a couple of glasses with wine I breath in the incense and set one of the cups down in front of the angel statue. Raising my own glass I slowly sip at it as the clouds begin to gather overhead. It is going to snow soon and what I've done here will not long last in this part of Skyrim. I was no pious monk by any stretch but I would continue to make these trips until the day I died. Which, at the current pace, wouldn't be for some time.

Finishing up my wine I leave the glasses and the rest of the bottle behind. Cleaning up after myself I gather everything that I won't be leaving behind and stuff it all back into the pack. The snow is already beginning to drift down as I head in the direction I came and back to my busy life.


	6. 4E 206  First Seed

The night is cold, windy and wet as I slip through the darkened streets in a hurry. When one is in Solitude you can always smell the ocean breeze as it blows in from the north and the air is always cool. In life I would have shivered but I had forgotten how since Morvarth made me undying. My bare feet slap the cobblestones as I navigate unerringly to my destination. Even on a night like this I'd never have trouble finding my way in my first adopted home.

Jogging up the stone steps to my manor I stop to admire it for a moment. It has been many years since I'd take over at Windhelm and almost as long since I had come back here. My mansion was a three floor monstrosity that I had purchased when I was flush with early treasure hunting success. Though my official residence was the Palace in Eastmarch this was a my first true home in Skyrim. An impressive edifice it served its purposes as both reliquary and a meeting place with just a dash of personal vanity. Many of my hardest earned trophies of battle lined this building's walls and were set on display here. Though I didn't spend much time admiring my work anymore – I rarely spent much time in one spot in the first place – it still felt like coming home.

Letting a few more gentle rain drops fall on my scaled face I hurry up the steps and unlock the front door. Sweeping into the house with a gust of night air I found my servant, Jordis, waiting for me in the small foyer. Out of armor for once her hair is done up quite elaborately and I wonder what the occasion is. "My Thane!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

"My finest housecarl." I say and she wraps me in a somewhat unexpected bear hug. Pressed against her I could feel something lodged just above her bosom that was small and metal. It had never been there before and I quickly deduced that it was an amulet of Mara.

"Too long, Jordis." I say after she lets me go.

"It has been! There's so much you have to tell me!" she smiled wide.

"In due time. Is she here?"

"Yes, in the sword room."

"Good, good. Here," I say and produced a full coin purse. "fetch yourself some new garments. We will speak tonight when my meeting is concluded."

The housecarl smiled at me just a half a second too long before taking the bag and exiting the building. As I listened to her footsteps disappear I sighed and added this new development to my mental list of problems. Heading to the third floor I was treated to the sight of the radiant Jarl Elisif the Fair waiting at my table. She was thumbing through a tome as it lay open in front of her. To my surprise she smiled when she realized I was there. Perhaps this would go well after all.

"Verax!" she glowed.

"My Jarl." I bow courteously. "Welcome to my humble home."

"I think you no longer need refer to me as Jarl, silly man." she smiled.

"As long as I am in Solitude I am still your Thane and you are still my Jarl, my Jarl."

She laughed and clapped her hands. "But surely you jest, Verax. This place is neither humble nor your true home anymore."

"These things are true my Jarl but not by choice. Long have I dreamed of Solitude's peaceable serenity and majestic buildings. Windhelm is simply a city hewn out of rough rock. Much like its denizens unfortunately."

"Ha ha! Ever the same you are. Now, I see the Blade of Haafingar, Hjaalmarch, The Reach, Falkreath, and the Pale but where are the rest?"

"The Blade of Whiterun rests in Whiterun. Riften holds the Blades of The Rift and Winterhold."

"And the Blade of Eastmarch?" she asked, knowing that it was a loaded question.

"As far as I know it rests in a cabinet somewhere. I did not receive it so I do not keep it among my personal effects."

"I see. Come Verax, show me the rest of this manor."

"It is hardly a manor." I say as I gesture towards the stairwell. "I think of it more as an armory."

As we entered the ground floor I add, "Well, maybe more as an elaborate, private tavern with all of my things on the walls."

"So many books, Verax. I had no idea you were so well read." she commented as we passed one of the many full bookshelves I had installed long ago.

"My collection is among the finest in Skyrim." I say proudly. "Only the College has a greater selection and they won't sell me any of theirs."

"What's this? A room of shields?"

"Aye. This is my personal record of my progression as a smith. At first I could only work this crude iron here but as you can see I have one of every known material and then some now."

"What are these? I've not seen them before."

"Falmer and Forsworn shields. Not easy to get."

"And these are shields from each Hold?"

"Indeed. I'm...something of a collector when it comes to arms and armor."

"I hadn't noticed." she joked amicably. "More books? By the Eight, Verax. What are these? Dwemer relics?"

"Aye. I gathered these items personally from ruins far underground during my adventuring days."

"Is that so? This one looks quite new."

"They're all quite old my Jarl." I smirk.

"Don't be silly Verax, of course they are. I mean this one was somewhat recently put here. It doesn't have nearly as much dust as it should and hasn't yet been professionally cleaned. There's even a bit of mud on the underside. Almost as if someone had brought it with them from far away to add to their collection here..."

I spread my hands and pull back on my lips to smile. "So much for your 'adventuring days' being over." she said playfully.

"You are entirely too observant, my Jarl." I admonish her.

"And what does my Thane think he is doing running a Hold yet still spelunking around in ruins like a muddy sellsword?"

"There is much to learn from the Dwemer still." I point out.

"What does Verax Whitescale hope to gain from them? Has he not done all he has set out to do?"

"No, my lady, not quite yet." I say quietly.

"Yet you still seek power?" she asked critically.

"Power with no purpose is nothing. Power for power's sake is just another form of greed. This kind of lust is why Ulfric Stormcloak was burned alive and thrown in the ocean."

Watching me carefully the normally upbeat Jarl took in a deep breath to steady herself. "You've grown wise, my Thane. Wise and just. Wiser than I."

I could not think of something to say that made sense so I kept my Argonian mouth shut. "Modest still. A Nord would have welcome the chance to comment on his virtues here." she commented.

"I am not fully yet a Nord, my Jarl."

"You're on your way. Tell me, who do you fight for Verax?"

"Skyrim, my Jarl." I say without hesitation.

"You've done so much already. You have so much, too. Why risk it?"

"The gods sent me here for a reason. Until I have done what I believe I was meant to do I cannot rest."

The Jarl stared at me for a few moments before looking down. "My tongue is dry, Verax. Have you refreshment?"

"Yes, of course. Come my lady. I will break out my finest wine."

We went upstairs to the foyer where I had my guest take a seat on the most comfortable chair in the house. Laying out the goblets made by Madesi I manage to impress the Jarl with their quality. They were local trinkets of my distant hatching place that I hadn't thought about in years. Uncorking a ten year old bottle and pouring a couple of tall glasses I take a seat with my guest. We sit in silence for a minute or so sipping the lightly fruity wine with a strong currant taste.

"There's one thing we've never spoken of." Elisif said suddenly.

"Oh?"

"It has been too long since you've been home. This is not a conversation one has by letter."

I'm quickly alarmed by the possibilities of what the Jarl was about to speak of. There are a number of things she could have discovered about me that were inappropriate to discuss via letter. They ranged from somewhat innocent like completely fudging the text of the poem about King Olaf to much more serious matters like slaying Emperors or executing her citizens. I remain completely calm as I reply, "You sound most grim my lady."

"It's...well...I...there's simply no easy way to say this." she stumbled and I briefly considered where to dispose of her body if I had to. It would only take a moment to draw the blade under my left forearm and put it in her heart. Pushing the thoughts from my head I focus on her words.

"I wanted...to thank you...for avenging Torygg." she finally got out and I mentally breathed a gigantic sigh of relief. Doing my best frightened elk in the woods look I immediately drop my head down. "Ah. That." I say.

"I know that you would have preferred another way but it had to be done. He wouldn't have stopped."

"I was doing the only thing I could to end the war as swiftly as possible. Had he chosen exile I would have regretfully accepted that."

"Regretfully?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Aye. Him and all his followers could have gone to Oblivion for all I cared. But I had a promise to keep as well."

"What promise?"

"You don't remember." I conclude. "It was just after I became Thane. You were telling me how much you missed Torygg and that you wished you were strong enough to kill Ulfric yourself."

The always composed Elisif actually blushed and was completely taken aback. "I don't remember." she confessed.

"I said that no person should have to watch a loved one die in front of them. I promised that if I ever had the chance I'd kill him myself in your stead."

"You did...really? It was so long ago..."

"Aye."

"But...the peace meeting. You said you didn't care about the war." she recalled.

"At the time I didn't. The survival of Tamriel was a much bigger issue than Skyrim at the moment. So I made my deal with the daedra to get enough peace to accomplish that. After Al-Du-In I was able to focus on righting wrongs here."

"You remembered a promise made to me I didn't even remember after all that had occurred?" she asked in disbelief.

"I did. That it also happened to be what I needed to do only served to reinforce my resolve."

"I don't know what to say." she shook her head. "How could I possibly thank you? No Jarl ever had a better Thane than you."

I was silent as she took a few unladylike gulps of wine. "You and Tullius. You really do care for Skyrim though neither of you are from here. How is it that two of our most steadfast protectors are not even Nords?"

"Perhaps the land fashions us in its image." I suggest.

"So it seems. You are a true man, Verax Whitescale. You have my blessings as a widow and my vote as a Jarl."

I was never one for dramatic showings but when the moment called for it I didn't pass it up. I pushed my chair back and settled down on my knees before bowing my head low to Elisif. "Thank you. Thank you, my Jarl."

"Rise, rise, Thane of Solitude. You have yet one more duty to render. You must not fail us."


	7. 4E 206  Second Seed

It is late evening as I make my way to Castle Dour. It is drizzling with a slight chill in the air just the way I like it. I'm quite well protected from the elements underneath double sets of robes that hide my face and nearly all traces of my Black Marsh ancestry. Only my long nose and swinging tale give away my non-conformity to the standard Nord appearance.

The light rain gently pelts the very tip of my snout as I walk up the slick stone path to the castle. It was a rainy night then, too. Years ago I was already brimming with confidence as I presented myself before the late Captain Maro at this very spot. I remember the look on his face as I gave him the dead Orsimer's pilfered writ of passage. It was a wild night of poisoned food, ambushes, betrayal and narrow escapes that ended almost literally with flight. My tail straight as an arrow I had flung myself from Solitude's land mass to the ocean below to escape the city guard and the Penitus Oculatus. Injured I still managed to sneak into my own home that very hour so that even my own Thane would not suspect me.

It had been many years since the first attempt on Titus Mede but memories are long for such events and the careful assassin never returns to the scene of a crime unless it was absolutely necessary. My paranoia would not allow me to relax but in reality there was little I could do if some sharp eyed guard recognized me. As far as I knew everyone I served at the table that night including the cook was dead. That only left around three guards who might have possibly seen my face before I covered it when making my hasty exit. What were the odds of those three being among the ones I would meet tonight? Seven years later? My hood was practically blocking my vision it was so far pulled down.

If only Astrid had not been so petty none of this would be necessary. I would not had to fight my way through dozens of Oculatus and would not have had to kill her with her own blade. I had to believe that my position here was inviolate; I'd already been questioned that same night and caused such a row about it that few would dare bring up the subject again. It would be quite difficult to be accused of a crime from years ago that I had already been exonerated of. Perhaps I was simply becoming too paranoid.

The brooding mage look would do for now. I could even pretend that I was worried about my own safety since I took no escort with me. These days I did not officially leave Windhelm much and my Guard was out where they should be in the field. While I still spent a great deal of my time avoiding my Jarl duties as best I could some functions could not be left to a Steward. A meeting with a long time ally and one of my staunchest supporters demanded my personal attention.

The men at the entrance to the castle are expecting company and I hold up a writ of passage that was actually for me. They don't even bother checking it as they wave me into the towering castle and I duck my head out of the rain. Ushered into the main hall I see General Tullius waiting for me.

"Jarl." he greeted in his reserved Imperial tone.

"General!" I call out in my gravely voice. Despite his passive demeanor I know the General is pleased to see me. Together by force and subterfuge we had ousted all of the former Stormcloak-friendly Jarls in the last few years. With their leader dead and Windhelm prospering above the other holds it was not difficult convincing the people around the jarls to assist in deposing them.

I extend my hand and we grip each other's forearms in friendly embrace. It was a good arrangement between us with my intel and the General's might. There was no need to make it seem like I could match him in strength if I had to. "Good to see you again, my lord."

"Come," he gestured. "We have much to discuss."

Inviting me to join him on a long table that would easily fit twenty people the Imperial knows by now not to bother setting food out. Instead there is only a bottle of his good Cyrodiil red and he pours as I pull out my chair. With only a couple of guards around I took the chance to lose a clothing layer. Dropping the dark, heavy robe on the back of the chair I reveal an outfit of pure white hidden underneath. An expensive and impressive piece of custom work hand made by Taarie's shop it was laced with gold and silver thread along the arms. The embroidered stitching came to a point at the cuffs where it became twin symbols of Windhelm. On the back was my personal draconic symbol that had come to be familiar to anyone traveling around Eastmarch.

"Robes fit for a king." Tullius commented dryly.

"This old rag? Had this just laying around." I grin from under my white hood as I set the darker clothing on the back of my chair.

"I understand that your commemoration of the Hold Games went surprisingly well."

"Yes, as well as it could have for me anyway." I shrug.

"I thought they were to be yearly competitions?"

"Originally yes but I thought making them in three year intervals would make them more special."

"Ah, so the next will be in 209?"

"Correct." I confirm.

"And how did the bronze in submission wrestling feel?" Tullius jabbed.

"I wish I was aware they grew Nords that large before I entered." I say ruefully. "You try escaping an ankle lock from a two hundred and seventy-five pound Nord monster. I'll get him next time."

"I imagine coming back to Solitude is something of an occasion for you." he said as I took my seat and folded my robe in my lap.

"It has been far too long." I admit.

"I understand your position in Windhelm is quite strong. One would think you prefer the comforts of your own palace enough to not miss this city."

"My palace belongs to the people of Windhelm more than I."

"So it seems." the Imperial said as he took a seat. "I do want to offer my and the Empire's condolences to your guard corps. Losing good men is never easy."

Though I rarely had the chance to fight with my men in open combat anymore I still knew all of them personally. Many were acquaintances, well reputed mercenaries and former stalwart companions of mine. Assigned to caravans and where ever else they were needed the Dragonguard had become famous even outside of Skyrim. They were both Windhelm's shields and elite shock troops who had earned a fearless reputation.

Only once in the three years since their inception were they bested and it was recent enough for the General to offer his sympathy. Four months ago I had lost two good friends of mine in an all out raid on a bandit stronghold in the Rift. They had learned to keep out of Eastmarch but this group was interfering with trade with the southern hold. My guard took it upon themselves to rid the land of this scourge and while they were successful in scattering the bandits it cost me two of my best. My intrepid scout Annekke Crag-Jumper who I was friends and nearly more with years ago on the road. The other was a stout Khajit guard whom I'd helped half a decade ago recover a priceless heirloom.

I had them buried on a plot I cleared myself on the 7,000 Steps to High Hrothgar. Their names were inscribed on their armor which the Guard took possession of and the dragon suits would be claimed by two similarly skilled combatants. Though they were all known to me I was closer to Annekke than most and her passing hit harder than I would have liked.

I had gone quiet a few long moments to reflect on all of this. "I'm sorry, General." I shake my head. "It is too recent a wound. Many of my guard are not only followers but dear friends."

"Yes, I know well your pain. It is good that a Jarl might still care for his men as you do."

"Well." I move on. "We mourn our lost friends but we celebrate what they have accomplished."

"I must admit that when you told me your plans for Windhelm years ago I was skeptical." Tullius conceded. "But no one can deny that you have created a state so favorable that even the most stubborn of Nords prefers your rule to others."

"Our caravans are highly protected without any charge to our clients." I say with no small amount of pride. "As you can imagine our goods and services are in high demand. In fact, with the recent training partnership with the Orsimer we have opened trade to Orc holds in Eastmarch and the Rift. Of course the success of the hot houses is becoming widely known and I get requests almost daily for our craftsmen to set them up in other holds. Thanks to our civil loan programs we've also increased our citizenship dramatically. Who wouldn't want to join us?"

"When do you begin construction on these hot houses in other holds exactly?" Tullius asked.

"I'm open to sharing our advances with other Jarls. Provided they are used prudently and not to increase the personal coffers of a Jarl or his friends."

"Mmm, yes. More maneuvers to fully consolidate your position."

I smile with gleaming teeth under my white hood. "Are not all maneuvers made to consolidate one's position General?"

"Few mask them as well as you do, Jarl." he said in what was half compliment and half warning. "Long ago when we first met I did not think you capable of what you have done. That is not a mistake I intend to make again. Now, what is your end game in this? Is all of this to take you in triumph to the heart of the Empire?"

"Ah. I see." I begin to understand. "You think I desire the throne of Cyrodiil itself."

"It had occurred to me. And to others." he said shrewdly.

"Relax, General. I've no desire to expand beyond Skyrim's borders. That is the domain of an Imperial."

"Are you quite sure about that?" he pressed.

"Perhaps in distant time, long after you and I have returned to the ground, a son of Skyrim may yet sit on a Septim throne. But it will not be I nor my progeny."

"You will leave no heir?" he asked in disbelief.

"Correct." I confirm. "An Argonian line does not benefit Skyrim and the ghost of Ulfric Stormcloak may rise again in protest. Even with a proper Nord wife I could not do this."

"Ah..." the General appeared suddenly uncomfortable. "I...forgive me for asking but...can you...sire an heir with a Nord woman?"

I throw back my head to have a hearty laugh at the thought. I'm told the sound is reminiscent of a rough wood saw carving into a mighty oak. "No, General. My...heritage does not mix well with humans or mer. You may be thinking of Khajit who as far as I know as much more likely to produce offspring with humans as they already give live births. I do not think a human body would know how to lay eggs."

The General actually went slightly red and I was amazed as I had never seen such a reaction from him before. Continuing I say, "Of course maybe I simply have not yet tested myself on enough variety. Perhaps if you would supply a steady grouping of women from different men and mer races we can begin a thorough scientific investigation into this matter."

Now completely red the General let out a very quiet, "...heheheh."

"By Azura, I managed to make the leader of the Fourth Legion crack the slightest of smiles. Now I can go on to the afterlife happy."

Composing himself the general pretended to sip from his cup and harumphed to himself. "Ahem. Now, without an heir who do you intend to leave your duties to?"

"A well groomed replacement. Perhaps a child of one of the Jarls." I smile as I gloss over the last incident. "In times of crises maybe Cyrodiil will look to Skyrim for a new leader."

"Are you suggesting that a High King of Skyrim could serve as an Emperor?"

"Why not?" I ask. "Your history is replete with times of chaos where a warlord took over pieces of a fractured Empire. Such periods of instability wreak havoc on all of Tamriel. As long as Skyrim remains whole and strong then who better to step in during uncertainty? Who better than a High King descended from Ysgramor and possibly Tiber Septim?"

"They wouldn't be from the Septim line though I'm sure you're crafty enough to get around that." Tullius said. "A Nord as the Emperor again. Trained by you, no doubt."

"Of course." I nod. "Who better to instruct a fledgling god-king?"

Leaning back Tullius took in everything we had been talking about. The man had a mind like a steel trap and he would remember the details of the conversation long after we had parted. "Now I see why men cannot figure out your motives and reasons, Jarl. You're planning for events beyond our lifetimes. You've always been."

"Correct again, General." I verify. "We must look beyond ourselves for a higher path. Do you know why I have come to rely on you these last few years?"

"Because it benefits you."

"No, General. Because like me you care for this land even though it is not your home. You are driven not by ambition but duty to be everything the Empire stands for. Had you been anything else I would not trust you as I do. I hope you understand that it is not personal glory I seek in this."

Tullius watched me closely as he said, "And this little stunt you're planning?"

"That's just proving a point, my lord." I smile. "Just make sure your men know to not do anything rash and the guests are unarmed and everything will be fine."

Sipping at his wine Tullius drew out his response. "All right, Verax Whitescale. I'll back you. But mark my words if you are untrue I will do everything in my power to remove you."

"Oh General, I would expect nothing less."


	8. 4E 206 Frostfall

Waiting on the hill overlooking the lodge I am wrapped in white wolf pelts that blend into the snowy area. Just to my right is my deadly longbow and in front of me a dozen ebony arrows are sticking up out of the snow. The moon Masser peeks through the clouds and turns the area into veritable day for a trained assassin. In my hand I conjure the briefest flash of fire that is out as soon as it appears.

Only a few seconds pass before the lodge below goes up in flames. Hefting my heavy daedric bow I nock an arrow and let it rest on the black drawstring. Another few moments pass before a knight comes crashing out of a window facing me to the safety of the snow and cold night air. Standing I pull back on the bow to full draw length and release. The arrow arcs perfectly and tags the knight in the shoulder with whirlwind force. Aided by magical armor, trained arms and technique honed from years of constant battle the knight never stood a chance against the bolt. It slams home and pins him to the very building he was trying to escape while it quickly grew to a raging inferno.

In no particular rush I pull another arrow from the snow and draw. Aiming a little high I shoot as the struggling knight attempted to free himself from the wall. He takes the shot in the throat and I watch him die even as I scan the area for any more survivors. The screams of dying men and women can be heard all the way up here on the hillside but I see none of them escape the building in my direction.

Not too much later we gather at the lodge's former entrance. Flames roared into the sky fueled by our very liberal distribution of fire salts and the combustible material the lodge was built from. When applied to the right points in and outside of a house or large building one could quickly reduce it to ashes. If there were enemies or damning information gathered by their agents that also happened to be inside then they would merely provide additional nourishment for the greedy blaze.

I had used this tactic before at the Thalmor embassy to destroy the files the elves had on me. Months of work by one of their top justiciars, Theatlus, went up in a cleansing conflagration along with whatever else the embassy had managed to gather. Luckily their operation was never completed and I counted on the reliability of bureaucracy to assure myself that a report would have never been sent back to Summerset without a end to the investigation. Since no Thalmor war party had come for me lately I assumed that is exactly what had happened. Or perhaps they had learned their lesson but that was an even larger gamble.

I stand with my two former Brotherhood initiates that had grown into extremely capable assassins. We watch the building burn and I think of how that a few years ago I wouldn't have trusted them to take out the local milkman. These days they had become indispensable and I would not have brought anyone else from the Brotherhood's swelling ranks with me.

"Shall I get going then, Listener?" the male of the pair asked.

"Apologies, yes." I say as I look up at the sky. "I was just thinking of how pleasant the evening would be if we didn't have to sully it with work."

"Hardly a proper job with you, Listener." he replied. "No great struggle in it at all."

"That is the best kind of contract." I remind him. "It is the assassin who spends the least amount of effort that is the hardest to catch."

"Aye." he nodded. "Shall I make for the watch tower?"

"Indeed. Take it apart brick by brick if you have to." I order. "I want that tower erased."

"Yes sir." he bows and turns around to crunch away into the night. He was a superlative assassin but the female that remained was yet better. Only the very best of the Brotherhood could be worthy of being my personal assassin, my Silencer. For the former thief at my side it was a great honor to be selected for such service. For me it was an easy process to pick the greatest of the litter. She had once waited in a fountain drawing air from a reed for eight hours to kill a particularly well guarded merchant. It did not hurt that there were other benefits to having her around.

Spending many minutes watching the flames die down and settle into embers I say, "Well, perhaps not the most romantic of evenings but you cannot argue that I never whisked you away to some lovely night in the mountains with a roaring fire on hand."

"Romance was never your strong point." she said dryly.

"Ouch. How deeply you would me, my dear." I say playfully.

"I would not expect such things from a man as you. Indeed, such...airy affections coming from you would be rather uncharacteristic. Not altogether unwanted, but unexpected."

"Oh. Here I was thinking that it was my manly charms that helped you into my bed."

"As I recall it was the simple fact that you ordered me to accompany you and in our travels we made camp with only one bedroll." she said haughtily. "Anything after that was me merely doing my duty."

"Ah, duty. I understand now." I say with mock concern. "Well if it is nothing but a laborious duty then you will have no qualms with me inviting that saucy wench of a serving girl to the Jarl's chambers. You know the one. With that backside like a race horse."

"You are free to do whatever you wish, Listener." my Silencer said unworriedly. "Just do not be surprised when your serving wench wakes up dead one morning."

I laugh and reach down to squeeze her buttock. She retaliates by yanking on my scaled Argonian tail and I can only grin in return. Glaring at me from under her hood I know that she is joking. At least I think she is.

"May I ask a question?" she wondered after a couple minutes.

"Of course."

"You always say that every person in Skyrim counts yet here we are disposing of a number of them. Does this not...cause you anguish?"

"True anguish? No. This is as necessary as it is sad. I am not fully opposed to what they do – what they did here. In fact our goals were often similar. True they were fanatics but occasionally useful fanatics. Only when it was clear that they were coming for me did I reluctantly act. One is not required to take joy in their work at all times, Silencer."

"Understandable."

"You want to know something I have never told anyone?" I ask.

She looked at me as if she was unsure if I was serious but nodded a moment later. "Sometimes, just sometimes mind you, I wish I had cured myself of my condition right after I had been bitten." I confess.

"Truly?"

"Aye."

"Why didn't you? Why do you not search for a cure still?"

"Many reasons I suppose. I'm too used to this lifestyle. The benefits are too heavy to ignore. How many dovah have fallen because their Fo cannot harm me? How many enemies have never heard my silent steps or fallen for illusory tricks while I set them up for death blows? No, dear Silencer, I am a creature of the night whether bitten or not."

She tossed a branch onto the embers of what used to be the lodge's porch. "I see the pain in causes you during the day. Not to mention the great efforts you undertake to conceal your nature from those who can recognize it. Is it worth it?"

"In truth it is more difficult to keep my status in the Brotherhood a secret. Let me think on it." I say. "There was that Thalmor mess a few years ago. Had to kidnap and execute their informant Sven in Riverwood but that was more tying loose ends. Had to wipe out that Stormcloak contingent that found out about me but I would have done that anyway."

"What about the Thalmor patrols you ambush?" she asked.

"That's not anything to do with my identity. That's just thinning the herd before the inevitable conflict ahead."

"Hmm."

"In fact other than this little excursion and executing Falion of Morthal no one else has had to die specifically for recognizing me as a vampire."

"It must be difficult for you, my Listener." she said and always managed to make the occasional 'my Listener' sound like a term of endearment.

"We do only what we're meant to do. Perhaps it was fate that I would be the Jarl of Windhelm. Perhaps it was fate that Keeper Carcette invited me here in honor of my part actions against the Hall of the Vigilants' enemies. Perhaps it was fate that they recognized my vampiric nature. Whatever the case it is truly sad that we we had to kill them and burn their Hall to the ground to keep them from exposing me."

My Silencer moved forward to warm her hands on what was left of the great hall's threshold. "What of Stendarr's wrath?"

"Is he not the god of ruling by might? If his followers were stronger they would have destroyed me." I shrug. "I'm sure at the end of my days there will be a reckoning of my actions. The gods and daedra I imagine are licking their chops thinking of my death."

"You walk a dangerous path, Listener."

"Tell me about it."

We watch the embers reduce everything but the thickest beams of wood to ash. Even the bodies will soon be nothing but soot in the wind and whatever is left the snow will claim. "I am satisfied that any evidence they had is gone now. Shall we retire somewhere warmer my dear?"

"Indeed."

"I spotted some dwarven ruins just north of us on the way here. How would you like to make camp in the safety of a Dwemer hold?"

"Have we more than one bedroll?"

Looking behind us I report, "It would appear that we lost yours on the way up here." I scratch my scaly chin with a talon in false thought. "Huh. How odd. Well, let us not delay. Bring the things, my dear."

Picking up my bow and starting off to the north the Silencer pulls on my tail as I step away from her. Laughing I scoop a handful of snow and throw it at her as she ducks behind the packs. Our laughter and warmth fades away into the night much like the lodge does as the servants of Stendarr rested in eternity.


	9. 4E 207

It was a bright, sunny day and just the kind of weather that I absolutely hated. Under my skin my blood bubbled, boiled and roiled in agony which I bore with an uninterested face. Mid day in Solitude was something of a event when viewed from the palace as one could see past the city to the mountains beyond and the dark clouds that stood in stark contrast to the bountiful sunlight. Despite my reservations about the weather it was going to be a fine day indeed. So fine a day in fact that nine Jarls were gathered in front of Solitude's Blue Palace. So fine of a day that the Jagged Crown, a symbol of Skyrim's High King since the time of Ysgramor, was also present. It was a perfect day for a Moot.

Years of struggle, heart ache, septims changing hands, plans going awry, prejudice, hostility, outright battle and the occasional assassination had led to this point. The Jarls that now ruled over the holds were either my personal friends or willing allies with the strongest hold in Skyrim, my hold. The ceremony was little more than a formality but traditions ran strong in this cold land. While it was true that decades ago I might have been executed for my boldness much had changed even in the seven years I had been in Skyrim. Not only did I have my personal history I had General Tullius – and by extension the Empire – on my side.

If there was one nagging doubt in the hearts and minds of my Nord subjects it was the unproven fact that I had been rightfully called the savior of all of Tamriel for the defeat of Al-Du-In. While it was undisputed that I was the Dragonborn and the most successful dragon hunter in Skyrim's history there were those who believed that The Nord Who Was Not could not also have defeated the World Eater himself. Some had trouble accepting what I was to begin with let alone being convinced that I had fulfilled a prophecy older than the ages. Granted the battle itself took place in Sovengarde and witnesses were hard to come by but this injustice I would not suffer. Some things had to be seen to be believed and I wasn't likely to get an endorsement from dead Nord heroes in this life. Another route had to be taken that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what I claimed was true.

Choosing my battleground wisely I had set up a stage for the Moot just before the castle walls. Raised up from the ground all of the Jarls would sit behind a speaking podium and cast their votes for the next High King (or Queen) of Skyrim. Hundreds of of citizens were milling about and packed into carefully constructed people levees that would keep them from stampeding. Guests and important nobles would be traveling from all over the province to attend the ceremony. I planned on giving everyone a show they would not soon forget.

The guards had been briefed and the stage was set. Just past noon we nine Jarls came out in a solemn procession to the stage. Tullius followed behind us and behind him was near the entirety of my Dragonguard. Some 75 of the now 80 strong members were here and they formed up in front of the stage in a semicircle as we climbed the wooden steps to the top of the fabricated platform. The crowd had been at a steady murmur but it rose an excited hum as we moved into our chairs.

Everyone was in their finest livery while I chose to wear a resplendent suit of ancient Nord armor reclaimed and refit for this purpose. Cleaned and polished to a mirror shine it had been painted a blazing white with massive pauldrons added on that rose up past my ears. Behind my neck an oval brace had been built that came up almost to my feathery hair and though ceremonial would guard as well as any helmet. Hanging off of me was a great white cape that trailed along the ground and swished as I walked. All in all it cut a majestic image of me but the damn suit was rather heavy and would not stand up to the rigors of actual combat.

The sun was nearly unbearable and I suffered in its fury like a live skeever being dropped into a pot. Thankfully only my head was exposed to the the harmful rays although my whole body felt the unease of the day time. Bearing the considerable discomfort with practiced detachment I took my seat in the middle of the other Jarls while Elisif the Fair made her way to the podium. In an extremely elegant blue dress and matching tiara she looked painting perfect as she stood in front of the giant crowd. There were a sea of a faces from the palace all the way back to the castle and I hoped the levees would hold.

"People of Solitude! Of Skyrim!" she projected her voice across the gathered masses. "Welcome to my home! Welcome to the Moot!"

The crowed threatened to become noisy but she quieted them with raised hands. "Today we crown a new High King. Like many of you I have suffered loss in a horrid war that has worn down our country and broken our hearts. But we are Nords! And we have fought as Nords to put this behind us to look to the future!"

Elisif measured the crowd before delivering her next lines like a true statesperson. "Once I believed that it was my right to rule as High Queen. But I have seen that there is one better choice. One Jarl who has elevated himself and his hold above all others. One Jarl who has bled for each and every one of you. One Jarl who can lead us all to greater heights. I am not ashamed to take my place behind this man and neither should any of you! I give you the Jarl of Windhelm, Verax the White!"

I could not have asked for a better introduction as I rise from my seat. While the nobles are suitably unimpressed quite a few cheers go up from the common folk that made up the majority of the crowd. Joining Elisif at the podium I kneel on one knee at her feet which was not an easy task in that heavy armor. Touching my shoulder she smiles and I rise to gently press her to my white breastplate with one hand. I face the crowd as Elisif retires to her chair and the cheering intensifies when I extend my hand out to the masses.

"People of the Old Kingdom! Of the Fatherland!" I shout and my voice, aided by Thu'um, boomed across the gathered visitors. "I am Verax the White! The Nord Who Was Not! The Dragonborn Hero! The Champion of Skyrim! It is my great privilege to address you honored guests from all nine holds!"

Pausing for effect as I had been carefully taught I deliver some good news to win over a supporter or two. "Many of you know that Windhelm has prospered greatly in the last few years. But prosperity for Windhelm is prosperity for Skyrim. So, with the gracious acceptance of the fairest in the land, lady Elisif the Fair, there will be three days of feasting after this ceremony. It has been paid for by the citizens of Windhelm and Solitude so consider it a gift from your friends, brothers and sister of Eastmarch and Haafingar!"

This prompted a great many cheers from the crowd as was expected. Whatever I had paid my courtly adviser it simply wasn't enough for this much positive effect. "Now, there are some of you here who do not know me. I was once a refugee in these lands almost ten years ago. I found a land tearing itself apart through war. But Skyrim took me in." I shout as I begin to pace the high stage back and forth. "It took me in and made me strong. I, along with many of your fearless countrymen, have brought down dragons that threatened your homes. Behold my Dragonguard whose steel stands in between you and evil every day!"

Cheers and clapping went up for my assembled men and women. A few waved to the crowd but many chose to remain stoic at this praise. I signaled down from the stage and from the palace an honor guard came out bearing flags and shields. I continued to speak as they made their way around the stage up and up to where I paced. "I have been a friend to Skyrim longer than I have been a Jarl. I give you my personal housecarls and dear friends from every hold. They bear the Blades of Haafingar, Eastmarch, the Pale, the Rift, Whiterun, Hjaalmarch, the Reach, Winterhold and Falkreath!"

Lining up behind me and in front of the Jarls the color guard bore the weapon, shield and flag of each hold. It was a powerful reminder of my far reaching actions but nothing compared to what would come next. "Thank you friends." I say and my color guard moved back down the stage to join their bone clad companions below.

"Now, there is one last piece of business we must discuss, citizens of Skyrim. Many of you have seen me combat the dragon menace first hand and that they might never return I took their souls as my bloodline demanded. Believe it or not but I am the Dragonborn and it was I, along with your Nord ancestors, who brought down the World Eater far, far away in Sovengarde.

"That's right, you heard correctly." I shout as the crowd burst into commotion. "You can ask of it in the next life. But – wait, calm down!" I held out my hands as the fervor rose. "Yes, I have set foot in your honored resting hall as a living person. I have met your forefathers and did not find them lacking. But like many of you I would not believe such a tale without proof. Do you agree? Do you not need proof that I have conquered the lord of all dragons?"

The crowd roared at me and I could only smile. "Skyrim!" I cry over the multitude of voices. "You shall have your proof! Do not fear what is about to happen! I promise you that there is no danger! Have no fear, friends!"

Turning back to the other Jarls I grin wickedly. Tullius was as unentertained as ever when I join him and Elisif. "You're sure about this?" he asked with a disdainful tone.

"Oh yes." I nod.

"I trust you Verax. If you say nothing will happen, I believe you." Elisif said. "Do it."

"By your command, my lady." I say before heading back to the podium. Turning to face the palace I suck in the mightiest breath I could and called, "Od...Ah..Viing!" into the sky. Watching the clouds I waited as the crowd died down. Many of them had never seen the Thu'um in person and there was an electricity in the air almost palpable as we all waited. Sensing something coming the crowd was quiet and the rest of the Jarls bewildered as three dark forms fell from the sky. They grew rapidly and when people saw what I was looking for screams went up. The monstrous forms of the _dov_ came into view and it almost too much for them. The panicked people found to their dismay that they were crammed in so tightly by the levees that they could not escape nor attempt to trample each other. The massive _dov_ beat their great wings down on the castle and each slammed down on top of the castle and city walls with near earthquake force. The crowd frenzied helplessly as the earth itself rumbled at the arrival of the dragons.

Only I remained standing on the platform as the other Jarls cowered behind their chairs. Flapping their great wings they forced me to steady myself against the air currents before folding them at their sides. My master Paarthurnax breathed in and let out an ear splitting shriek that flattened some of the Jarls and could be heard echoing off Castle Dour. With my master in the center to the right was Odahviing and on the left a bronze scaled student of Paarthurnax's named Fassnuqonin. Settling onto their stone perches they peered down at the awed and scared witless humans.

"Calm people, calm!" I shouted across the crowd. With the guards managing them and the dragons sitting irritably on the walls the people quieted down until one could hear the grass growing in Morthal. Turning back to the dragons I bowed low and cordially.

"Honored guests, exalted_ dov_, we welcome you to Solitude in peace." I shout to them.

"Why do you waste your time with these _jul_, Dovahkiin? Your Thu'um belongs among us." Odahviing asked me with a voice that shook the very stones he rested on.

"These are my people, honored guest. But some of them doubt my role in the defeat of Al-Du-In."

"They what!?" Paarthurnax roared all the way to the front gates of the city. "You _jul_ fools! Only the Dovahkiin stood fast to stop the end of this world and you dare doubt him!?"

"The Thu'um of the Dovahkiin is strongest!" Faasnuqonin raged. "You would be easy prey for the _dov_ without him!"

I turned back for a just a moment to see the complete and utter stupefaction of the entire crowd. "Thank you, honored guests. I fear I could not have convinced them otherwise."

"Never forget your history, mortals." Paarthurnax warned. "Nirn owes itself to Norok-Joor-Saviik." Almost in unison the great _dov_ leapt into the sky. Going to one knee I braced myself as they blasted the podium with their wings before rising up beyond the city. Circling a few times and calling out to me they eventually climbed into the air and were gone.

Only Elisif and the General knew of my plan and the other Jarls had no idea what was going to happen to them. They were as frightened and malleable as any of the commoners below us. So long I had planned for this, this golden opportunity I'd fought, killed, maneuvered, bullied and tricked my way into. I had correctly identified right now as the most important few seconds of the last six years.

"Lady Elisif, will you take the vote?" I shout over the dead silence of the thoroughly subdued crowd.

"All in favor of Verax the White?" her voice rang out clearly. The Jarls meekly raised theirs fists in the air in unanimous support for me. Turning to the masses I knelt down as Tullius produced the Jagged Crown he had been hiding. Elisif took it and with both hands gently placed it on my scaled head.

At last! Skyrim was mine!


	10. 4E 299

High King Torygg III sat back on his most comfortable chair. In front of him was a thick tome named 'The High King's Manual' penned by his late predecessor Verax the White. It was a book of philosophy, advice, proper etiquette and tactics but most importantly it outlined the qualities for a near perfect ruler of Skyrim. How ironic that it would be an Argonian would best understand the heart and soul of Nords. One could not argue with the results he achieved in his lifetime though.

Starting in Windhelm Verax had brought revolutionary ideas to every hold with far ranging implications. Concepts like abolishing a Jarl's personal income and providing assistance to low income families regardless of race were unheard of before his time. With almost thirty years of sponsoring research on Dwemer technologies he brought advanced farming techniques, security improvements and metallurgy to all of Skyrim. While the secular college in Windhelm advanced pure knowledge the High King welcomed refugees from other provinces as well as former foes. A Nord would have never considered inviting anyone else into his home but as a former refugee himself it worked for the Argonian. Skyrim prospered to the degree that even the friendly Empire to the south found itself talking about his policies.

At the core of the manual Torygg flipped through was a simple yet oft repeated idea: in order to do right a High King must be strong. Not only strong of person but of country, of sword arm, mind and temperament. Verax had written that every future High King ought to learn to Shout as he did for it taught patience and humility while promoting peace. Torygg had been raised according to this book and believed that he espoused the virtues that the legendary Dovah Hunter spoke of. Verax's Dragonguard had been charged with continuing to do good across the land but warned them about following an unjust High King. That the bone clad warriors guarded Torygg at that very moment seemed like a silent approval to his rule.

The High King always felt better reading the manual. With the second Aldmeri War at an impasse he could use the reassurance. Pushed back to Summerset Isle the elves had put up a hard, long fight over the last three years. With Skyrim's strength and massive contribution to the war effort Torygg had finally been able to fulfill the Nord dream of free worship. If another treaty was drawn up Cyrodiil wouldn't dare attempt to ban Talos reverence again. It needed powerful Skyrim and her stout warriors more than ever.

Still the full might of a united Empire could not yet break the elves completely. In defense of their homeland the Thalmor had prepared a shockingly massive defense line hundreds of yalms long. It would take an amphibian invasion force in the thousands to even breach the walls let alone bring them down. Currently the best strategists in Tamriel were struggling with this very problem that was also keeping the king awake at night.

Sighing Torygg got up to take a walk outside on the walls of Windhelm. Immediately following him was the captain of the famed Dragonguard. Bergfinn was a massive Nord who had inherited his dragon armor directly from his grandfather. Every wearer of the armor had his or her name carved into it when they either died or retired and Torygg knew that it was a source of pride for the captain to eventually have his family's name on it twice.

Together they walked out onto the gusty parapet where snow whipped around them. It was a refreshing change from the palace every now and then for the High King. Watching the snow fall he looked out on his hold which had almost doubled in size in the last century. He envisioned it even larger to the point that it could be a fortress city that encapsulated the very mountain it was built into. Such things though would have to wait until the war was resolved.

"What does the future hold, Bergfinn?" he asked almost rhetorically.

"Sovngarde." the other man answered curtly. While they were bound to the High King by occupation the Guard were by no means required to engage in boot licking or even be polite. Their feedback was honest, direct and without regard to title.

"Sometimes I wish I could go there if only for a day. Like the White once did." Torygg admitted.

"What for?"

"To ask my honored ancestors how they would deal with this Summerset issue. Would they seek to entreat or annihilate? Maybe I could ask if I have done right by them." Torygg ruminated. "What would you ask, Captain?"

"I would ask how the food is." Bergfinn answered with a straight face.

"Ever practical my friend. I doubt you have much worry of disappointing your fathers."

"You do?"

"Sometimes." Torygg lamented. "All my life I have followed the path of a man I'm not even related to. Does he watch from Shor's benevolence and curse my name? Does my grandfather and mother, lifelong friends of his, weep at how their grandchild has failed to measure up to what they had passed down?"

"Why don't you ask." the captain said as if this was a simple matter.

"Hah! As if I could summon Verax Whitescale and ask him how to best approach Summerset. I might as well as him to help invade while I have his ear."

"An amusing fancy." Bergfinn said. "If you will excuse me, I have business to attend to."

Swiftly walking away the big Nord left Torygg puzzled. It was unlike the captain to be so brisk and very unlike him to leave the High King alone. Confused he contemplated this unusual behavior a few minutes before heading inside and out of the cold.

* * *

><p>Rough hands dragged him along even more roughly. Torygg could feel the cold air nipping at his groggy head and bed clothes. His hands were bound as well as his mouth; whoever kidnapped him knew well the danger his Thu'um presented. There had to be at least five of them leading the High King barefoot onto a horse drawn cart where he was thrown on unceremoniously.<p>

The carriage lurched forward and nothing but the sound of hooves made it to the prisoner's ears. Torygg's mind raced to think of what was going on and how he had been captured. Windhelm boasted the most impressive security in all of Skyrim and his chambers were monitored every hour of the day by the incorruptible Dragonguard. How could he have been taken from his very bed and forced outside of the city walls with no one noticing?

The cart pressed on for the better part of an hour before coming to a stop. Torygg was hauled down onto cold snow and tugged along by his captors. The powdery ice bit into his chilled feet and every step hurt more and more. After a few minutes of walking his extremities went numb and he wondered if he was simply being brutalized before being killed. There were untold numbers of people who might want him dead; trying to figure who was an exercise in futility at this point. The ground suddenly changed to stone and he took a handful of steps onto a terribly cold slab of stone he could barely feel. A few more steps brought him to soft furs that were a godsend for his frozen soles. He heard a cackling fire somewhere near and mercifully he was being led closer to it.

Brought to what had to be the edge of the blaze he was forced to sit on a surprisingly plush pile of furs. A heavy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and Torygg felt his blindfold being taken off. "Try to use your Thu'um and you die." the man behind him spoke and as his gag was cut off so were the bindings on his hands. Vision blurry but restored the High King saw several men in red and black robes with knives freeing him. He was on a stone circle covered with furs somewhere out in the valley before the Rift and he could not see Windhelm from where he was. A high cliff was in front of him and the great slab of rock with the fire burning in the center he sat on was hemmed in by thick trees.

Finishing with him the men turned to leave. While he could not get a good look at their faces he could not miss the black hand on their backs that could only mean the Dark Brotherhood. No wonder he had yet to be rescued from danger. Strangely the assassins simply walked away from him into the cold night without so much as a glance backwards. Supremely perplexed but not yet wanting to leave the fire until he could feel his toes Torygg pulled the blanket around him tighter.

"You look older than the last time I saw you." a grating, raspy voice called from nearby. Torygg whipped his head around but could see no one about.

"Whose there? What is the meaning of this night abduction?"

"You called." the voice whispered in his ear and Torygg wrenched away from the sound involuntarily. Standing right behind him where there was nothing just a second ago was a tall Argonian assassin. Shrouded in a cowl and the killing armor of the Brotherhood Torygg could only see slitted eyes with a gleam of the fire dancing in them. "Who are you?" the High King demanded.

"You called. Here I am."

"I did not call for an assassin!"

"Oh, but you did." the lizard said. Undoing his cowl he pulled off the hood and let the mask fall to the furs below. Like seeing a statue come to life Torygg could not believe what he was looking at. Here was the reptilian face from carvings and paintings around his own palace he seen a thousand times. But there was no way he was looking at the High King from the turn of the century.

"By the Nine...you can't be!"

"Yet I am." Verax the White said. "I have returned from Sovngarde and crossed the mortal boundaries of death to advise your on your current situation."

"Truly!?"

"Of course not, fool boy." Verax shook his head. "You think I would leave the afterlife to help you? Mortals wars wouldn't concern spirits."

"But...you died. Your remains are interned at High Hrothgar."

"An Argonian is interned there. As you can see I am quite well." the ghost insisted.

"This must be some sort of trick..." Torygg said more to himself.

"Hmm. Well, how about this? Do you remember your grandmother's favorite broach? It was a gold amulet of Azura."

"What of it?"

"It was inlaid with nine flawless sapphires and one diamond. On the back of the inner loop was the message, 'To my only Jarl from her loyal Thane'. Your grandmother gave it to your father who gave it to your mother who passed it down to your young daughter."

"How could you know that?"

"I made it for her. Elisif I mean." the Argonian explained. "It was crafted and given to her on the tenth anniversary of the death of her first husband."

All of that information was extremely privileged and also extremely accurate. Still, it didn't make any sense to be having this conversation. "That's impossible! You can't be alive still!" Torygg desperately reasoned.

"Long have I watched over you, High King." Verax ignored his protests. "I am most pleased that you have followed my teachings. I've come to offer my services."

"But how? My grandmother passed away thirty years ago. She's barely a memory to me. You'd have to be...over a century old!"

"A century and a score or so." Verax said loftily. "So mind your manners around your elders, boy."

It was almost too much for the High King to take in. How could the very man who literally wrote the book his life was modeled around be standing before him? There had to be a good explanation. "How have you remained alive? Why did you not come to see me sooner? Where have you been?"

"Safely dead." Verax sighed happily. "_Vero_, dying was the best thing to ever happen to me. Suddenly no one's looking for me anymore, my enemies don't expect me to show up and all my debts are wiped clean. Bloody marvelous idea."

"What about these assassin you've hired? They've seen your face haven't they?"

"Hired?" the lizard echoed. He looked down at his garb and back to the king. "Does it look like this is a costume for holidays? Like I only wear this for winter cold?"

"You are...of them?" Torygg gasped.

"Since before your father was born, son."

"That can't be. You're a hero. A legend practically! You brought peace to Skyrim! How could you be a foul assassin?"

"Peace is earned by might. Have I taught you nothing, young Torygg? _Pax per bellum et fortitudinem._"

"Peace through war and strength." the king mused.

"You haven't ignored your language lessons. Good. I was worried when you did poorly in mathematics as a youth."

"You've been watching me...wait, you set this whole thing up! By the Nine! Bergfinn!" the king exclaimed when he realized what had happened. "The Guard serves you still!"

The Argonian did not answer and Torygg was beside himself with disappointment. "I see now. You seek to control me from the shadows like a puppet. Was all your goodliness a lie then? All your advice tainted by what you are?"

"Of course not." Verax snorted. "You would presume to deny my deeds because of your own moral objections? Have you now elevated yourself to judge of all men young Torygg? Shall I call Shor and tell him he is no longer needed?"

"Ah...no sir."

"And no, I'd rather not expected the Guard to still follow me at this point. They were to serve your line in my absence and I never meant for them to discover just how similar they were to my Brotherhood." the assassin-king explained.

"What is this you speak of?"

"All in my Order know the Guard is off limits, if not why. The Guard though never had a reason to question their shared history with the Brotherhood until recently."

"What history?"

"I trained both groups personally." Verax elaborated. "I don't know how it happened but at some point assassin unwittingly crossed blades with Guard. To do so is to incur death among my Order. Many of our techniques are old, older than the Third Era. Unarmed Akaviri fighting moves unchanged from millennia ago have been kept alive by the Brotherhood for centuries. At the time I did not see the harm in teaching a few of them to my Guard."

"They recognized a common teacher." Torygg deduced.

"Correct. When the assassin realized that killing the Guard meant me personally hunting him down and taking his head he wisely used a very specific shoulder lock to bring his opponent down instead of a blade."

"One found in the Dragonguard's training manual." Torygg had to smile.

"Unfortunately. The guard, trained the same exact way as the assassin, by reflex tapped on his opponent's leg to signal his defeat. The assassin, also likely by long hours of practice, by reflex let him go. I imagine that they regarded each other with complete shock as they could not be more different in profession and philosophy but discovered they were brothers in arms. The assassin fled but the guardsman did not forget the encounter."

"What did they do then?"

"Well, believe it or not they performed the Black Sacrament to get some answers. You can imagine their surprise when I showed up."

"I can, now." Torygg said. "They followed you after that?"

"Well, not at first. They thought I was a ghost and I had to render them unconscious before explaining myself. I've kept in contact ever since."

If it really was Verax himself then this changed things for the war effort. As far as the king knew the Argonian had never been defeated in battle and carried a mighty grudge against the elves. In addition to that he had an order of assassins at his command. As insane as it was he could not turn down the help. "All right. Let us pretend I believe you are who you say you are. That means you know about Summerset and our press to conquer it. May I count on you to assist?"

"Of course. I spent forty years building Skyrim into a province so well armed and defended that the elves would think twice about invading again. Here we are on the brink of doing what Tiber Septim did. Peace across Tamriel for the first time in an Era."

"And you would help me?"

Closing his eyes Verax massaged the plate scales on his forehead. "I've _been_ helping you. Where do you think the timely reports from the front came from? The troop movements? The Guard are not trained in espionage. Fortunately, my Brotherhood is and you've never bothered following up on where Bergfinn gets his information. And if my acolytes' blades drink a some elf blood at the same time to make a little coin then everyone wins."

"You've been using them to spy and kill Thalmor?" the king asked incredulously.

"I don't think you appreciate how much gold I've managed to ferret away even without being paid as a Jarl. I could assassinate fifty Emperors and still not even touch my Order's coffers. Besides, killing Thalmor's kind of a hobby of mine."

Skyrim's king had to think a few moments about all of this. It was one earth shattering revelation after the other from this man. While some of the things he was saying were unthinkable the lizard did not fail to measure up to his legend. Torygg could practically feel his menacing presence and knew that unimaginable violence could be unleashed from the ghost come to life at any time.

"What's got your tongue, boy?" he rasped.

"So many things. So many things I've wanted to ask you. Now that I have a chance I can't even think of them all."

"Eh." the lizard shrugged. Summoning a spectral bow to his hands he turned to the cliff and started firing phantom arrows at its cracks. The shots were accurate, hard, good enough to kill even from that distance. The king thought back to the book and how his predecessor always warned a High King to always have a weapon handy.

"Is this what you meant by never be unarmed?" the human asked.

"Something like this." the lizard answered. "If taken literally than yes. Your Thu'um would be more than enough to deal with a would-be assassin. Well, most of them anyway. Of course, sometimes you need a blade in your hands to do things right. Maybe a bow just for the reach."

This triggered another quote in the book in Torygg's mind and was a question he himself had long wondered. Verax had spoken of a leader extending his reach through his servants far beyond his own borders. It was a concept Torygg had found it hard for anyone but a lifelong politician to come up with. The man before him certainly was not that. "I see a warrior, an assassin but not very much a statesman." he began. "Some of your policies were...unbelievable at the time. Still are to some. I know much about your life but not where you learned to run a Hold or a country so well."

"Heh." the lizard chuckled as he kept firing at the cliff walls which were quickly becoming riddled with glowing bolts. "I guess that's my dirty secret, High King. I was never much for civil administration. Inept, even."

"Then where did you come up with your ideas?"

"I didn't. I had others do it for me." he revealed.

"Who?"

"Is that particularly important?"

"It is to me."

Verax sighed and dismissed his bow before turning back to the fire. "Typically one looks to their elders for advice. There were few on Nirn worthy to be my mentor in such matters and fewer still to be my elder. Many of my...controversial ideas came from a mind not bound by the constraints of humanity...or mortality."

Initially puzzled by what that was supposed to mean and who it could have been Torygg very quickly deduced a startling possibility. In the college Verax founded there was a tome written by the Argonian himself which was transcribed for a most unusual source: the great dragon and human sympathizer Paarthurnax. The book was a firsthand account of the Dragon War as well as guide for mastery of the self. The original copy was still closely and jealously guarded by the College of Windhelm for its historical value. It was never known exactly how the Dovah Hunter obtained the cooperation of multiple dragons let alone one of the most fabled in history. The origin of the book had not been explained in its pages but it was quite popular among philosophers and other Argonians who hailed Verax as one of the greatest of their species.

"The dragon. You must have learned from him." he realized.

"_Vahzah, Jun-Do-Jul._" the Argonian said in the thick and ancient dragon tongue. It sounded almost more correct than his speech in common that Torygg could understand. "I have relied on his knowledge and intelligence for almost a century. My master has never steered me – or Skyrim – wrong."

"Self-educated and tutored by a dovah." the human shook his head. "No wonder I could never measure up."

"_Daar jun los vanmindoraan. _Why would you compare yourself to me?" Verax asked.

"How could I not? All you do is list the things I should be." Torygg snorted. "You've failed to mention how many of your tenets you violate yourself."

"_Krosis._ I did not mean to for it to be so literal. But for what it's worth, you've done well in your reign. Your grandmother Elisif would have been proud to see the king you have become."

"I...thank you." Torygg blinked. To think that he thought of this kind of conversation as idle fantasy only a few days ago. "What, then, does your master say about the current situation? How does he think we should proceed against the elves?"

"You need a beach head." Verax suggested. "A hardy supply line to it as well. You're going to need to start laying fortifications down on the beach as soon as dead elves hit the sand. Use their blood for mortar as you build walls because they're going to hit you with everything they've got in the counter attack."

"Is that how you would do it?"

"_Nid._ I prefer a less...grand entrance. Perhaps a meeting with a few dozen Thalmor behind their lines."

"You would help me break them?"

"Like I said, I already have been. I've been planning for this before Al-Du-In's bones were cold."

Torygg was getting excited but he had to think. How to best use a living legend that was still only one man? He could hardly think of a better agent to have against the Thalmor. Not only was he a master of the Thu'um he had once brought tame dragons to a hold...

"The _dov_!" Torygg exclaimed.

"_Aam_?"

"The line in Summerset! If you lead the attack on the elves the _dov_ can provide just the kind of attack we need to punch through their walls."

"Hmm. _Dov aav faal kein_. That will require no small number of my kin." Verax murmured.

"Surely you can make them come?" Torygg pleaded.

"It is not as easy as that, High King." he warned. "The _dov_ respond only to strength. Some may help merely because I ask it but others I must literally beat into submission. Have you ever punched a dragon half to death to get it to respect you?"

"You're the Dovahkiin, Dragon Hunter, Bane of Alduin. If anyone can do this it is you."

Verax scratched his scaled chin and was distant for many moments. Torygg thought that perhaps he had asked too much of the former ruler of Skyrim. "All right." Verax said suddenly. "For Tamriel and a thousand evil deeds redeemed I will do it."

"Yes! Yes!" Torygg said excitedly.

"But I want full credit. Tell people you...raised me from the dead or some such nonsense. I'll not have a Nord king in later centuries claim to be of my line and able to command the _dov_."

"Deal!" Torygg grinned.

"Just remember boy, should this go ill I will be waiting to tan your hide in Sovngarde. _Dreh ni funt Zu;_ do not fail me."


	11. 4E ?

I wake in a field of verdant grass surrounded by nothing but rock and wind. Sitting up I look around at my surroundings like a newborn coming to for the first time. Everything was a dull shade of blue except for the sky which danced with otherworldly colors. I reach for my trusted blade but I see that my hand is blue and translucent. It takes me a few moments to realize that I did not survive the invasion of Summerset. I sit there for time immemorial thinking on how badly I've failed. This was the place for Nords to go, not I. All my life I'd hoped to end up in Azura's benevolence, in her kingdom of eternal twilight; that would not happen now.

Getting onto my ghostly feet I head down the only road in front of me that surely led to the Hall of Valor. Long ago I cleared this very path of Alduin's misty soul snare. Though it was multiple lifetimes ago I still remembered the way like one remembers the way home they'd walked a thousand times. Not long after setting out I can see the great roof of the hall and the giant Tsun who ever guarded the bone path to it. Nothing had changed one bit since the last time I was here. Well, except that this time I was here to stay.

"Ho there shadow-walker." the giant said in his great voice. "You have returned."

"So it seems." I say sadly.

"Most are happy to enter the Hall and be among the honored." he observed.

"Most are not me." I point out. "May I pass or do you require another battle?"

"No, you have earned your place here, Verax. Go, and rest in peace."

I walked across the bone bridge and wondered what would happen if I were to jump into the endless chasm below. It didn't seem like the worst idea I'd ever had but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad here. As I approach the doors they open by themselves and waiting for me at the entrance is a welcoming committee I would have never suspected. I see the faces of my Guard, friends I'd made during my long life, Companions, thieves, shopkeepers, even Ulfric Stormcloak and dozens of his lackeys. Some of them clap me on the shoulder and say a kind word but I am too overwhelmed by everything to properly respond. A lot of Stormcloaks only watch from the back of the room and considering how many I'd sent here this is not surprising. I see the Nord heroes who helped me bring down Alduin and a dozen, dozen faces long dead that I'd forgotten.

It is a bearded, tiara wearing man who I'd never met in life who parts the crowd and leads me away into the Hall. We come to endless rows of doors that this man seems to know all about. I want to go speak with my friends but I have an eternity to do so. For the moment I let him lead me until my curiosity is too great.

"_Krosis_, my friend, but I do not know you." I tell the man.

"I know you." he said. "Come along, I'll take you to your room."

"Room? What does a spirit require sleep for?"

The man merely smiled as we walked on. "Who are you?" I demand.

"Torygg the First." he said. "I believe you met my wife."

"Oh! Yes. It was your combat with Ulfric that set this whole story in motion."

"Here we are." he said and ignored my comment. "Brace yourself."

"For what?" I ask but he only smiled again.

"I have no idea." the former High King said and walked away from me. Confused I nevertheless opened the door.

Inside was nothing like what I was expecting. The door opened to an endless void that drew me in with irresistible force. I flew past light, sound, gravity, Nirn, Oblivion and all things to reside in a deep, dark nothingness that had no room for anything but cold. I was at once enveloped by it and a part of it as I floated in the Void for eternity.

Quite simultaneously I was also plunged headfirst into a land of terrible, unrelenting beauty. The sky was a shifting, blurred painting of ten million shades of blue, purple, orange and red. The ground was a moving, bleeding mess of green, orange and brown that bubbled up under my feet like a living organism turned into thick liquids. Everything was a dizzying blend of everything else and had I eyes of flesh I would have wept at the sight. It was a land of night mixed with day and sweet perfume that I realized I had been trying my entire life to get into.

I don't know how much time had passed if that even meant anything anymore but I came to realize that I was still standing in the Hall of Valor as well. As clearly as I could see the stones of the walls in Shor's hall I could also see Moonshadow as well as the infinite darkness of Sithis. Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine I could exist in all three places at once.

"Verax..." a soothing, multiple layered voice floated to me in Moonshadow. I turned my head in that world as well as in Sovngarde despite there being nothing in the Nord afterlife but the empty room. I had no head to turn in the Void; an ocean would have had an easier time getting up for an afternoon stroll. Clearly this was going to take some getting used to.

From the shifting land I saw the figure carved in stone on an icy mountain that haunted my dreams. Lady Azura strode across my swimming vision and in her was the sun, moon and stars. I fell to my knees both there and in Sovngarde without meaning to. Concentrating on Moonshadow I managed to say, "My...my Lady..." and was pleased that I did not repeat it in Shor's hall as well.

"Many of the princes would claim you, Verax." she said in her voice which resonated through me. "Meridia jealously speaks of you for the legion of undead you cleansed with her Dawnbreaker and necromancers whose blood it drank. Boethiah wants you for your worthy service donning her blackest armor and executing your countless enemies with nary a sound. Hermaeus Mora would have you serving his great library for all of time."

"I...have only done as the ones who stand above me have asked."

"On Nirn you wielded a dream staff, covered yourself in werewolf skin, meted out insanity with the Wabbajack, carried the artifacts men only dream of. Yet you would come to my domain. Why?"

This I was not expecting here at the end of things. I'd spent a vast majority of my life in service of the Daedra and the Dread Lord but it was only Azura I'd ever prayed to. I thought that was obvious but here I was before her having to defend myself. "I used the weapons, the boons granted to me true." I begin carefully. "But where did the souls of my enemies go other than your star? What use were the tokens of the other Daedra when all of them only went to your gift?"

Her shifting, immaculate face was unimpressed and I thought quickly to come up with more evidence of my devotion. "It is only to thee I would cast my lot with, my Lady. Did I not personally care for your shrine when Aranea passed from Nirn? Lit candles and offered sacrifices to your altar when others would leave it cold in the mountains? Have I not guided others there to take over when I too have passed from the world?"

She was still unresponsive so I brought up the best evidence I had: my entire life philosophy and actions resulting from it. "You say I have wielded other artifacts but regardless of who they came from they were in your service. I strove to stray neither into true darkness nor light that I might embody your principles. I was an assassin but I also cleared entire covens of my vampire brethren if need be. I killed for money but gave my life in service of the greater good. Is this not the balance you seek? I remember the moment I saw your statue in the cold mountain air and was fascinated as you held both sun and moon. Is it not true that I too have done so as best I can?"

Still the shifting prince was silent and I realized now that somewhere along the line I had made a miscalculation that had cost me everything. The long years of disregarding my pleas and caring not for my adoration now made sense. Whatever I did or didn't do the prince was not going to welcome me to her fantastic kingdom. "What more must I do?" I asked pitifully. "What more punishment must I endure? Is this my just reward for my wickedness? Is it because I let Aranea die? If only...if only you spoke to me in life I could have changed."

Staring for the longest moment of my existence she then smiled and the sight was so radiant I was nearly destroyed by it. "I only tease you, sweet Verax. It is I you have come to follow from the very beginning is it not? It is me you sought to please by balancing the darkness in your heart with the burning justice of your blade. I know this even if the others do not."

"We do only what we're meant to do..." I could barely speak out I was so close to being overwhelmed.

"I wanted you to remain in doubt. I wanted you to not know if you were on the right path. Many who would worship me and hear my voice know if they have displeased me or not. You though, you have collected the boons of so many it is hard to know where your true loyalty lies. I wanted to see if you would change your ways but you didn't. Even now my shrine is warm and well tended in the cold snow."

I searched her ever changing, flawless face for a measure of reassurance but found none. Even with the chill of the Void affecting a third of me I felt colder in Moonshadow as I hung on her every syllable.

"You're home, champion." she said with a voice like a dozen others speaking at once and in a tone of perfect certainty. My phantom chest swelled with happiness at the words I'd waited over a century to hear. It was more than I could have ever hoped for in life. I bowed my head to what passed for the ground in Moonshadow and only stopped when my ghostly skull touched the floor in Sovngarde as well.

"Your faith has indeed led others to me. Even now they tend to my statue with the care Aranea would be proud of. You have done well, Verax Whitescale."

Relieved from the bottom of my being I shudder at the implications of existing forever in some of the other realms of Oblivion. I try to come to terms with my hard fought acceptance into Moonshadow but it isn't easy. I was having a difficult enough time in the triple versions of reality I was experiencing. Though at least the first two versions were not nearly so alien as the cold nothingness of Sithis which my mind had trouble even grasping the nature of.

"My Lady...why do I feel the cold of the Void even now?"

"Ah. Your Dread Father's grip is too strong to deny. You will exist in the Void and return to Nirn as he sees fit."

I have to think on this a few moments even as I struggle to cope with my situation. "Verax!" someone called to me in Sovngarde and I turned my head in Moonshadow as well.

"Come see me when you gain your bearings." Azura smiled and was suddenly gone. It was wholly unnatural to breathe the sweet air of Moonshadow while still feeling the dead chill of the Void and warmth of Shor's hall as well. I wasn't sure if I would ever get used to it.

"Verax!" the voice called again. Looking behind me I saw my oldest friend in life, Alvor the blacksmith. He had died at least seventy years before me in his beloved home in Riverwood.

"Alvor..." I say.

"You look good for dead you scaly devil." he beamed. "No one thought you could top besting Alduin and they were right. But I'll be damned if your death wasn't about as spectacular."

"Yes, well...after a hundred or so elves the odds begin to weigh against you." I dimly recall from the battle.

"Still! Riding on the head of a dragon as you jumped single handed into an elven army? With dragons tearing the coast up? Such a grand entrance there never was before!"

"I wasn't supposed to die just yet." I grumble.

"Ach, that's what everyone says. Come, let us feast. You have many stories to tell."

This was true. I had forever to get to them all, too.

* * *

><p>The circle exploded outward in magical fury and blew the candles around it away from the altar. At the center a blue, spectral mist convalesced into the form of a humanoid. Slowly the features of an Argonian assassin took shape and he rose up to look about. He saw a massive ebony altar that he stood on with a slew of naked dead around it. Blood stained the entire area mixed with the burning sweetness of powerful alchemy reagents. The figure sucked in a lungful of Nirn's air for the first time since his own death and reveled in the sensation.<p>

The altar was just one level of a five tiered circle pyramid that lead down the floor in some kind of massive cave. Gathered around at the bottom of the ebony circle were a dozen assassins who cowered at the sight of him. Only one in heavy robes dared stand close to the steps.

"Who dares summon me?" he bellowed and his voice shook the stones around them. "Who dares disturb the rest of the last Dovahkiin?"

"It is I, Lord Verax." said the assassin in robes. Pulling back her hood she revealed herself; it was his old Silencer and human consort for near a full century on earth. Turned to the shadows by the lizard's bite in life she had not aged one bit in the years since.

"_Dii-Brit-Kriid_." the phantom grinned with a wicked, toothy smile as he addressed his former lover. Stepping down the massive altar he placed a ghostly hand on her ever smooth face. "Long have I wondered when you would join me in the Void. Perhaps I can summon thee to Sovngarde to keep my bed warm for all eternity."

She only smiled and bow her head. "I am Keeper now, my lord. All has been done as you asked since you have joined Sithis."

"Why have you summoned me then?" Verax asked as he looked around. "Why are there so many dead to greet my entrance? If you are worth anything you can handle killing yourself!"

"Your soul is mighty and heavy, my lord. A simple summons will not do. To call you we needed many sacrifices to draw you from the Void." the Keeper said meekly.

"Hmph. And what do you call upon me for, Keeper?"

"An army gathers in the castle of our enemy to wipe out one of your Sanctuaries. We are in dire need of assistance. Your servants are strong and skilled but they are many of them. We seek to even our odds with your help."

Reaching out his hand the ghost of the Argonian grasped a great spectral sword that appeared in response. "Then they will know the wrath of Sithis, most beloved Keeper."

"Yes!" an excitable assassin burst out from the back ranks.

"I told you it would work." the female Keeper said. "Prepare immediately. Lord Verax cometh."

It had been far too long since he felt the gravity of Nirn and the wild, pulsing breath of life. This the long since deceased Argonian could get used to, especially because he could bring back more tales of his exploits to the afterlife with him. All in all, it wasn't so bad being dead.

The End


End file.
